


The Tale of Amity

by Pres310



Series: Luminous Poetry [3]
Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: ADHD Luz, Amity just has a lot to heal from :((, Angst, Autistic Amity Blight, Character Growth, Cuddling, Dereality/Derealization, Dissociation, F/F, Flashbacks, Found Family, Healing from trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Listen I'm gonna reference music a lot, Luz is a supportive GF, Mom Eda, Past Child Abuse, Poetry, Recovery, Trauma, a continuation of my last two fics, and a support system, get this girl some therapy, luz and amity are already a couple, mom lilith, you're just gonna have to deal with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pres310/pseuds/Pres310
Summary: A Blight; what was a Blight? A Blight was a disease, a destroyer of crops, but it was also a name. But what was in a name? A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, and a Blight by any other name would hurt just as much... and a Witch by any other name would be just as powerful, just as loved, just as free.
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Series: Luminous Poetry [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904896
Comments: 121
Kudos: 499





	1. Amity (The Witch) Blight

**Author's Note:**

> What? Me, using fanfic and my special interests to cope? What are you talking about? /j
> 
> Heavy TW for explicit and also implied child abuse, as well as ableism against an autistic child.

_Sniffing glue just to stay warm;_   
_My body dissipated so thin;_   
_I was a ghost;_   
_And nobody could hold a ghost;_   
_It made sense then;_   
_Why I couldn't hold on._

  
_You tick and you watch;_   
_You watch how I walk;_   
_You watch how I talk;_   
_I watch as your face;_   
_Ticks still like a clock._

  
_Scrape my chin on the ground;_   
_Wish you were around;_   
_Break his hand in a fit;_   
_Wish you weren't smiling at it._

  
_You pet my head and I cringe;_   
_I give you a hug;_   
_And it's like I've struck you back._   
_Press my body into the warm pavement;_   
_Just to feel touch._

  
_I hear the door slam shut;_   
_You might as well_   
_Just cut off my hands._

  
_\----_

  
Scraped hands outstretched forward to catch her small, trembling self, a young witch’s breath hitched panickedly as the slam of a door marked a new beginning for her. One forced and stressed, one that left her knees bleeding and her stockings torn. Her shaking breath grew deeper and quicker, small sobs making cracks in the afternoon stillness. Mumbled protests and tears escaped her shaking lips as a tall, unfeeling figure towers over her, two upper eyes set on the gates, and three lower ones glaring coldly at Amity Blight.

  
A pair of platinum blonde braids reached down, as did a pair of bony, manicured, clawed hands, gripping angrily at Amity’s cowl and ripping her up to her feet. The teenage witch whimpered frightfully, feet stumbling and dragging behind her as she tried to squirm away or at least look back, but red painted claws kept her snapped to attention on the gate. Clawpoints dug into her cheek with a sting, blood dripping down to the neck of Amity’s cowl. The green-haired witch whimpered again as her chin was snapped up to face the five-eyed woman.

  
“The Blight family has politely requested your immediate removal from this house-” five glowing, green eyes glared straight into Amity’s soul “-Leave now or face immediate threat of danger.”

  
There was the familiarly unfamiliar feel of concrete hitting Amity’s cheek as her body was tossed forward like a sack. She almost expected to hear the gate creek and scream shut behind her, but it was eerily silent. She wasn't even privy to the sendoff of the gate. The air hung still and quiet, completely empty aside from the shuddering breaths of the young witch. Amity couldn't even try to mask, to pull herself together; her mind was a decade away, in another time and place, her body feeling less like a “young lady” (as her parents had put it) and more like a tall child. The rips in her clothes barely registered with her, as did the scrapes on her hands, and the blood on her knees, and the tears mixing with blood and making sickening swirls of pink-orange on her face-

  
A breeze blew by, and suddenly, Amity was five years old again. It was suddenly winter, and the air was suddenly much colder. She daudled about, flapping her hands with excitement and babbling happily as a butterfly fluttered her way, jewel toned wings tickling her face as it landed daintily on her nose. This started up another wave of hand flapping, frightening the small insect as it batted away to another colorful thing. Amity felt her tiny heart break, cooing sadly as she tried to chase it.

  
“Now you understand, Amity,” a much larger, paler hand closed itself around both Amity’s, voice full of false warmth and all-too-real condescension. “You can't act like this. Not you, not a Blight.” Her mother’s free hand gave a shiver, a controlled shudder, and suddenly, a sunset-colored butterfly materialized in front of the two. Amity kept her hands still, despite the upset it caused her, despite the fact that she felt tense and uncomfortable staying still.  
A Blight. What was a Blight? Their family shared a name with a disease, a destroyer of crops, but what was in a name? A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet, and her family under any name would still hurt just as much.

  
There was a stray caw, the grating sound of a nearby crow, and suddenly Amity was seven. It was summer, hot and humid, and the sea breeze should have been relaxing, but she couldn't stand the salty scent, or the texture of sand, or the uncomfortable texture of most bathing suits. However, what she hated most was the group surrounding her; her cousins, quiet and cold and sounding and feeling so wrong in some incomprehensible way. Their hair was black, thin but brushed through, and pin straight, unlike the Blights’ thick, green waves and ringlets. And her… uncle. Quiet, observant. His palisman was a grackle, small and greasy, eyes too bright, voice too rough, like a crow if it was drenched in dirty oil. And his wife, a loud woman who clawed for his attention so hard she forgot her own stepkids. 

  
“Why don't you go and give your uncle a hug? We haven't seen him since you were a little baby.” Amity shook her head, but was tugged towards her uncle anyways. “We’re so sorry about this, she’s usually so sociable!”

  
Amity hated touch she didn't expect or initiate. This was her personal space, and anybody who invaded that wasn't coming back out intact. She shook her head again and tried to hide behind her mother, only to be scoffed at and pulled to the front once again.

  
“Oh, it's really no problem, Miss Blight,” the way her uncle looked at her made Amity want to cry, to run, to be sick. She couldn't stand the way it made her skin uncomfortably crawl. In that moment, a wave came crashing in, washing away her cousins’ toys at just the right moment.

  
The wave crashed in Amity’s memory and then she was 12 years old again. Hexide was busy and bright around her, and Boscha was sneaking her around the library. Something about Skara finding some human book, but either way, Amity was in. She needed to see what all the fuss was about; I mean, the human world lacked magic. Nothing they do could have been that interesting, right?

  
But then the two girls found Skara, and the book itself. It was small, leather-bound, and seemed almost like a journal. It was hand-written, with drawings and pictures and plants pressed-flat. The three girls giggled at the “gross” drawings of these Humans’ titans, making fun of the men’s big beards and wild hair, until Skara flipped to one of the final sections of the book-

  
“Artemis,” Skara whispered. “Human ‘goddess’ of the moon, hunting, and the protector of women and girls.”

  
“Humans are so weird,” the three-eyed young girl scrunched up her face, but Amity just found herself humming and nodding. On one page was a picture of Artemis, so delicately illustrated, so realistic. Her hair was tied tightly into two braids, the ends left loose. Black, shiny ringlets made up the hair that rested carefully on strong shoulders, and her dark skin glowed effortlessly with the blue light of the moon. Blue-white fabric flowed and draped effortlessly off the young goddess, and an owl watched diligently from Artemis’s shoulder.  
Amity let out a breath she barely knew she held in; Artemis was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen. Goddess of the moon that Amity gazed at from her window every night, whose light and view made Amity ache with yearning for something she couldn't even recognize. Protector of Women and Girls… Amity felt a strange sense of safety looking at the image. If Artemis were real, Amity felt as though this would be some sort of sign, that… that everything would turn out alright. That she would be safe, because what were the odds that this would show up in the boiling isles now?

  
Amity took that book home with her and that night, she poured over the few pages on Artemis endlessly. Her heart beat steadily in her chest, and her face flushed with a deep admiration. She glanced up at the moon and smiled; real or not, Amity felt protected. Something had its eye on her… and that eye quickly turned unsettlingly watchful as the clearing of a throat brought Amity’s attention to the door of her bedroom.

  
“Amity,” Her father’s voice was blank, even lacking the sharpness of discipline. “I told you to go to bed an hour ago.”

  
“Yes, father, I’ll get right to it-” suddenly, he was before Amity, snatching up the human book in her hands. She reached for it but wasn't tall enough, and suddenly her heart beat not with infatuation but with fear. Her father’s features scrunched up with disgust, and he left the room with the book.

  
Amity felt so frightened that she barely even remembered that they’d completely forgotten to call her down for dinner.

  
She’d never eaten, and she’d never officially been sent to bed.

  
It was with this memory that Amity finally began to think, to make her little mind up, to try to move just a small bit. Back to reality, she looked up and peered through bloody fingers at the blinding sun. She stumbled to her knees, then her feet, and shakily stood up. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest, and the fresh pain of her wounds. Mild nausea rolled in her stomach, and tears still poured silently down her face, and it was in that moment that she decided fuck this, enough silence. She wailed openly, wailed loudly, cried out as a testament to the pain she’d always been put through, because how could you do this to a child? She cried and yelled and kicked at the dirt and when it was all over, she set her eyes on the road. 

  
She began to shake, to crumble, a fresh wave of tears and whimpers coursing sorrowfully through Amity as she limped forward. The wind whispered around her, regaling the tale of Amity The Witch in its own quiet language.


	2. Luz (The Human) Noceda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath, so careful and precise and delicate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a TW for Amity's panic attack
> 
> Very rough! To be edited in a moment when my iPad isn't glitching out on me!

_The rustle of leaves;_   
_A peach tree;_   
_Wild mint leaves;_   
_Cherry blossom blooms;_   
_A stream of water_   
_And warm bedrooms._

  
_Owl feather down_   
_Catches me as I fall;_   
_A tall child;_   
_Inside soft walls._

  
_You pick up shards of an old vase_   
_And you sweep them into the trash;_   
_I watch and I think_   
_Will that be me?_

  
_But your hands are gentle;_   
_Your eyes aren't searching._   
_Your voice is kind_   
_And I was made to fit so perfectly in your arms._   
_You pull pieces of me back together;_   
_I repair myself;_

  
_And you help._

  
_You help._

  
_I need help._

  
_\----_

  
There was the clink of dishes as the last of them levitated into spot, a wide-eyed human watching in awe of the carefully practiced magic. A grey-haired wild witch chuckled warmly as she popped the gold circle of magic before her, her shadowy sister batting gently at her shoulder as she chastised her on… something about learning her own glyphs. She grumbled too much for the human to really hear her clearly. A demon, a crown of Kandi beads upon his little head, hopped into Luz’s lap, muttering something about ‘stealing nap spots’. The small family woke up steadily, relaxing as they prepared for the Saturday.

  
The air smelled faintly of apple blood, sweet and spiced and rich, almost cider-y. Freshly made pancakes sat on antique, mismatched plates, fluffy and buttery-salty and sweet. Soft fabric and soft edges and soft expressions, the house sung with the harmony of quiet chatter and high laughter, the drumming of relaxed heartbeats, the flute melody of birdsong, and the low bass strumming of the strongest magic in all the isles, thrumming with power and love and life. The utmost respect for the isles, the titans, and their magic built this house and carried it, made powerful not by the unity of a coven but rather by the unity made by the love and empathy for magic and the fellow witch.

  
“Oop- looks like you have a new friend, Luz,” Eda chuckled as a certain palisman landed in her protege’s hair. Luz squawked awkwardly, flinching as she felt Owlbert’s claws tangle in her wavy hair. She shook her head, shaking away the little owl… who immediately went to bother Lilith. Eda threw back her head, hooting loudly with laughter, her cackle full and lively. King snorted, and even Luz found herself giggling. 

  
“Quit laughing and help me, Edalyn,” Lilith scowled. Eda stood up, knees wobbling a bit as she walked over to her younger sister. She cupped her hands beneath her palisman, gently lifting the small, cuddly Owl, bantering back and forth with the cooing creature. Lilith brushed a hand through her impossibly smooth black hair, flattening down the frizzy strands of hair plucked out by Owlbert. 

  
“Aww, Lilith, he just wanted to be your friend!” Luz pouted, scooping up King and bouncing excitedly towards her newfound family. Lilith sighed exasperatedly, though she found herself trying to hide a small smile. 

  
“He can be my friend without nesting in my hair,” Lilith huffed, brushing a stray owlbert feather from the shoulder of her wrinkled “ _RIOT GIRRL CXVEN_ ” t-shirt. “Eda, remind me again why the only clothing I can borrow is… this?”

  
“What, the T-shirts?” Eda sipped from her ‘over thirty and flirty’ mug, a mustache of red apple blood staining her upper lip. “Reparations! And it's too dangerous to go to the market right now anyways.” Lilith rolled her eyes, but nevertheless pressed her lips together and paused. She seemed to be searching for the words, speaking slowly, as if the gesture was unfamiliar to her. Maybe it was.

  
“Thank you, Eda,” she spoke slowly. “You’ve done so much for me, despite how much I've hurt you. I respect you for that.”

  
“Aww, love you too, sis,” Eda smiled, sipping from her mug once again. Her tone then dropped to something a bit softer, more genuine, “and uhh… it's really no problem. We got a pretty tight family here, what's wrong with one more?”

  
“Well, Two more, considering how often Amity’s here,” Lilith observed, tone light despite carrying heavy implications. Luz flushed a slight rose tone, almost biting her tongue to keep herself from gushing about Amity, about how kind she was, really, when you saw through her tough front. Luz’s heart leapt in her chest at the whole scene in general, beating steadily, a fluttering of a million Owl down feathers in her gut. Her chest felt full, fit to burst, with the joy she felt in this house. Luz tapped her hands on her knees to release some energy, catching Eda’s attention. The elder witch smiled warmly, sighing sentimentally.

  
“Ah, young love. Reminds me of my first girlfriend,” Eda reminisced. “She was in the illusion track- I actually kind of stole her from lily here-”

  
“-oh that’s right! I took her place as Grom Queen, and y-”

  
“-another story, another time, Lily,” Eda cut off her sister. “Oh, I took her to the human realm once. A magical land called- drumroll please-” Luz drummed her hands on the kitchen table “-Las Vegas, Nevada! Place was pretty dull without us, buncha sad old alcoholics. Met an interesting dude there- my gal and I actually decided to play a little joke on him! So she disguised herself as me and we kept switching places, and the dude was so infatuated that he didn't even notice-”

  
“Weren't you married to him for a few hours?”

  
“-Nah, legally, my gal was,” Eda corrected Lilith. “Ahh, Moira. Actually kinda looks like Amity, they had the same gold eyes and small hands.”

  
“What happened to Moira?” Luz asked, in awe. Eda sucked her teeth, humming.

  
“Don't exactly remember, to be honest,” Eda pondered. “According to the authorities, she stole my identity and scammed a good few knuckleheads… and then removed my memory of her stealing my identity. Haven't seen her since.”

  
“Wow,” Luz mused. “Chaotic crime ex-girlfriends!”

  
“Chaotic Crime Ex-Girlfriends!” Eda cried out, laughing as she did so. “Aren't ya glad I stole her now, Lilith? Guessing you probably didn't want her stealing your identity.”  
“Well, obviously now, but-”

  
**_“HOOT HOOT,”_ **the infernal tube of bird that was Hooty crashed into the kitchen, startling the group, grating voice like a broken train whistle. “LUZ’S SCARY GIRLFRIEND IS AT THE DOOR, YOU MIGHT WANNA GET IT!”

  
“Huh,” Luz hummed, “Amity wasn't supposed to come over until Sunday.” Luz felt elated, but cautious. She wanted to think that Amity’s surprise visit was wholesome and sweet and that she’d surprise Luz with something like a picnic by the sea, but… some sort of alarm was ticked off in the back of Luz’s mind. Something felt off, so strangely wrong- but that couldn't be, could it? The morning was so soft, so gentle. It was one of those mornings that brought you to tears because you realized just how much you loved this, how much you loved those with you this morning. Luz’s heart gave a flutter thinking of Amity; she had to be okay. Her smile, the genuine one she rarely showed, was so sweet that it made Luz’s face hurt from how much she grinned just thinking about it. Her hands were soft and small but carried such powerful magic, her skin so pale and yet so rosy and smooth. Amity’s laugh, the powerful way she spoke when truly angry, the way her walls seem to fall down around Luz and Willow and Gus, all of it was running through Luz’s mind and motivating her to walk to the door. She picked up her pace excitedly, opening the door, about to greet her lovely girlfriend because she had to be okay-

  
Oh.

  
Oh.

  
Amity stood uncharacteristically hunched over, arms just barely holding the shaking girl together. Her green hair was down and tangled, one of her hands white-knuckle gripping the purple scrunchie that once held it up. Blood was smeared around her face, half wet and red, and half dried russet brown and crusty. Her clothes were ripped and snagged with small twigs and burrs, and her pink stockings were ripped in multiple places (mainly her knees), exposing open wounds crowded with blood and small bits of gravel. Amity’s eyes were glassy and wet with tears, but seemed empty and far-off.

  
Luz felt her stomach drop to her heels, her heart shattering on the spot. She let out a choked noise, opening her arms. The moment she reached out, Amity seemed to snap back to reality, almost startling away from Luz at first. Luz’s expression fell at this, before her sorrow turned to anger; who hurt Amity like this? Who could've done something so horrible to her that she barely recognized her own girlfriend?   
Amity then seemed to recognize the girl in front of her, stepping forward once more and cautiously accepting the embrace. Luz wrapped her arms around her girlfriend as a fresh round of sobs began, tears staining the front of her shirt and blood from Amity’s torn palms staining the back. Luz whispered small words of comfort into the witch’s shoulder, gently rubbing comforting circles into her back. She took a step back, trying to gently guide Amity with her.

  
Eda watched from the kitchen, freezing up with perplex and concern. Setting down her mug, she shot to her feet when she saw Amity move her hand, the bloody handprint not only leaving a stain on Luz’s shirt, but an imprint on Eda. She approached the two quickly, ushering them inside. She peered outside, gold and silver eyes scanning the woods carefully. She glared at every shadow and movement, watching for the sickening shape of a dove’s mask.

  
“Hooty, watch for intruders, and stay quiet,” she growled to the Tubular Owl.

  
“ON IT!”

  
“Hey, hey, Amity, it's gonna be okay,” Eda called back to the green-haired girl. Lilith soon appeared at Eda’s side, though she kept her distance from the group. The look of concern on her face for her estranged protege was evident, choosing to keep her distance out of simply not knowing what to do. Eda turned to her sister;  
“Upstairs, Bathroom closet, highest shelf. There should be a first aid kid- and get the kid some tea,” Eda stage-whispered to the raven haired witch. Lilith nodded gravely, whisking off into the direction of the staircase.

  
Meanwhile, in Luz’s arms, Amity cringed at the pain from her torn hands and ragged, bloody fingernails digging into Luz’s hoodie. She gasped for breath, choking on air and tears and racing thoughts. Sobs wracked her small body, scared that if Luz weren't holding her, she’d fall apart into pieces. Stuttered and choppy sentences escaped her lips in a desperate attempt to explain herself, or to beg for… something. Anything. She cried out painfully and frightfully as she felt herself stumble, before finding purchase in the soft, familiarly smelling couch beneath her. The squishy couch and warm arms around her began to ground Amity, give her something to focus on in order to pull herself back together.

  
In a brief moment, Amity remembered something Emira once guided her through; Find five things you can see. Turning her head slightly, Amity can see the coffee table, crowded with mugs and papers and books. She can see a half-eaten plate of golden brown pancakes. She can see King, hopping up on the couch to curl up by Luz and Amity’s tangled legs, looking up at her with those big, colorful eyes of his. She can see Edalyn sitting down in an ornate armchair, looking unkempt but… welcoming. Gentle, almost. It made Amity yearn for something she couldn't remember, the ache deep in her gut and strange in her mind. She can see Lilith walking downstairs with a scraped up, old box in her arms.  
Four things you can hear; Luz’s heartbeat, quick and repetitive and comforting. The clicking of the stove being turned on. Eda unlatching the mysterious box, and the rustling of materials inside of it.  
Three things you can touch; The couch, old and lived in and seemingly holding her just as well as Luz. Oh, Luz, her tight, warm arms, and the way Amity’s head seem to be able to perfectly rest on her collarbone.  
Two things you can smell; Apple Blood. Sweet and slightly vegetable-y, rich with spices. Pancakes, childish and comforting and buttery, and it was then that Amity noticed the gaping pit of hunger in her gut.  
One thing you can taste; the cup of tea that Lilith was slowly walking over with. Amity slowly and cautiously untangled her body from Luz’s, still sitting close to her girlfriend. She reached out with shaky hands to hold the teacup, feeling Lilith’s pale, bony hands gently clasp her’s. Lilith smiled gently, though with a large amount of unease, the expression completely foreign to her. Bringing the cup of tea to her lips, her hands shook so hard that she felt the hot liquid drop down her chin as she took a small sip. She set the glass down on the coffee table, breathing deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth, Edric had told her. The tea was warm and flowery sweet, and made her lips tingle in a strange way. Her breathing relaxed and her eyelids felt heavy, and she couldn't tell what part of her exhaustion was from her running the miles to the house, or from the plants in the tea. 

  
“Hey, Amity,” Eda’s voice was deep and raspy, but it was weirdly comforting. “We’re gonna patch you up a bit, okay? Don't wanna startle you..” Amity simply nodded her head, feeling like she was moving through mud. Eda was surprisingly tender as she picked up Amity’s hand, pulling up her sleeve and washing a warm, damp towel over her torn hands and arms. Amity expects it to burn, but it's surprisingly comforting, and it doesn't hurt until Eda is forced to pull out bits of gravel from her cuts. Amity hisses, flinching slightly.

  
“Hey, it's gonna be alright, kid,” Eda cooed. She then began to wash and patch up Amity’s opposite arm, bandages wrapped around her hands and arms.  
“We’re gonna take care of you, Mittens,” Luz cooed, a hand gently coaxing Amity to face her. She brushed another towel over Amity’s cheeks, washing away blood, dirt, sweat, and dried tears. Amity leaned into this touch, savoring the tenderness and comfort in the action, savoring all the love and care and intent. She didn't even mind the pet name; it was so sweet coming from Luz, it didn't have the mocking air her siblings used it with.

  
They said they’d take care of her. The words sunk in as the last of her wounds were cleaned and bandaged, settling in her core. Yes, it was reassuring, it was warm and comforting and welcoming and Amity reached for it so desperately… but it was also frightening. This would take so long to recover from, to get through. She didn't want these people to walk on eggshells around her, she just wanted things to seem… normal wasn't the right word. Normal was Amity stuck inside a cold, empty mansion, an afterthought of her parents. Normal was Eda constantly in danger. Normal was… Amity betraying these people to join the Emperor’s Coven.

  
They said they’d take care of her…

  
Amity thinks she quite likes that idea.


	3. Ruler of Everything / Not Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new home, full of soft edges, soft expressions, soft places to land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact; got my trauma added to while writing this in an unrelated incident. Swag /s
> 
> Got really sentimental while writing the beginning, so credit to Tally Hall's "Ruler of Everything" for the main inspiration behind the opening poem. I wish I could have experienced their music before they split.
> 
> Heavy TW for Child Abuse, dissociation, and dereality/derealization

_When you watch how I walk;_  
_When you watch how I talk;_  
_It makes witches heartbeats_  
_Tick like_  
_A cold metal clock._

  
_My face has turned straight to dust;_  
_My mind has turned straight to ash;_  
_My body no longer registers as my own._  
_You made me practice these mannerisms into the wall;_  
_How could you make me feel small,_  
_When you told me to act so tall?_

  
_“I saw you star at the moon_  
_From your spot on the hill”_  
_I was observing it's magic_  
_Seeing if I'm still there._

  
_Now I understand_  
_Unforeseeable hands_  
_Are the ruler of everything_

  
_The ruler of everything_

  
_I’m not the ruler of anything,_  
_In the end._

  
_\----_

  
Glass shone smooth and bright and silvery-green, cracked like a spider’s web across dusty piano keys, the moonlight of a mirror glowing eerily back at the user. A false Artemis cast an unwelcomingly watchful eye from her spot inside the fake moon, her face an illusion cast from mockery. Stars were gone from a meaningless, void, null sky. There was a music box, somewhere, the ticking, twinkling song repetitive and dull. Such a childish noise, it struck somewhere that the young lady couldn't place. Some wounds that hurt so deeply but couldn't be found.

  
Wet, spring reeds hung loosely around a pale, scratched face, twin drops of honey stuck to a Tall Child’s face. Twin drops of golden, Amber honey, frozen and unblinking, on a body shaking, shivering, too grown for its own unfit, fluid mind. Cold hands gripped a soft towel, a cloud hanging comfortingly low to the ground. A summer breeze carries uneasy breath on gentle, coddling wings.

  
“I- I am real,” Amity The Witch spoke shakily, trying to bring her head down from its spotlight that cast her in uncomfortably burning light; this wasn't her face, this wasn't her body, this wasn't her life, she was an outsider peering in through the moonlit looking glass. “I- I am- I am here, and I'm going- I'm going to- to be okay.”

  
A mouse’s squeak and the frantic tapping of tense, stressed hands- Amity The Witch pushed her fingers into her hair, tucking her head down as if suddenly struck. She squeaked, shaking her head and fingers and tangling her wet hair. Eyes pressed shut, features squished, she tapped the tips of her fingers against her tender skull. She rocked on her heels, before frantically kicking a foot against the wooden floor.

  
...that was a comforting noise. Amity The Witch bounced her foot off the wooden plank again, tethering her focus to the creaky, bouncing noise. She was comforting herself, that was a nice noise, she was doing something nice for herself and she was here and she was real. Amity The Witch. Amity Blight. Amity. Her name was Amity, just that. She was real, she was here, and she was going to be okay. Her hair was mint green, and wet from a hot shower. She was looking into the mirror, and that was her scratched up face. The mirror was glass, just that, a reflection, unwatching. The only eyes here were her golden ones, and her breath was her own, carried by herself. This was her space, her space, this was her own space that only Amity was privy to, like the crevice in the library or the Diary left behind. Amity wrapped her hair in the towel, turning away from the mirror. She was a new Amity… and that felt safe. New, fresh, and uncomfortable, like having her flesh burned away to reveal some newer, purer layer, but safe. Welcoming. A new start. 

  
Amity looked at the pile of ruined clothes on the bathroom counter, then down at herself. Black shorts from Luz, high waisted and stretching down to her mid thigh. They were made of some thick yet stretchy material, obviously from earth. One of Eda’s tacky old T-Shirts; ‘MOTHMAN! TERROR FROM THE SKIES’, also black, but decorated in bright shades of magenta, cyan, and yellow. Amity almost smiled at it; who would ever consider moth creatures ‘terrors from the sky’? They were big giant teddy bears with wings and glowing eyes, and they made excellent omens of good luck if trained well enough.

  
Reaching for the doorknob and twisting, Amity was greeted with the sight of Luz about to knock on the door, king perched on her shoulder like a little Palisman. Luz smiled awkwardly, offering a hand out for Amity. Amity was quick to take Luz’s hand; her grip was always a little strong from how much energy Luz just seemed to be bursting with. 

  
“Eda and Lilith wanted to talk to you,” Luz said, voice dropping to a tender key. “You want me and king there?”

  
“Yes,” Amity nearly startled at her own voice; it was scratchy, raspy, almost gone. “Please.” Luz gave her hand a squeeze, and King suddenly decided to tense up, hopping from one girl’s shoulder to the other.

  
“If seeing you hurt upsets Eda and Luz,” he declared in his usually high-and-mighty voice. “Then it upsets me, too! I expect fiery revenge to be exacted on the cause of this!” Amity snorted, rolling her eyes and following Luz as she led her into the living room. Amity expected herself to feel nervous, but all she felt was… numb. Too exhausted to even feel sad or anxious, and just as that perplexed her, it quickly fluctuated to anger; her family didn't deserve this power over her. They didn't deserve to break her down to nothing like this. And she hated that she didn't know what to do about it, and she hated even more that some nagging part of her kept telling her that she just didn't try hard enough, that even her brain was giving up on her.

  
Amity sat down on the couch, instinctively sitting up straight, eyes conditioned to snap to attention in front of her. A slight raise of her eyebrows, and the occasional tilt of her head, and no matter how far away her mind was, nobody would doubt that she was paying attention. Except, she felt a strong, scarred hand on her shoulder, and an encouragement to “relax, kiddo”.

  
“If you're feeling up to talking about it,” Eda approached carefully, “we want to ask you what happened before you came here, alright?” Amity slowly nodded her head, leaning back into the welcomingly old couch. She shut her eyes, taking a deep breath and running her hands into her hair. 

  
“We were just having breakfast,” Amity’s voice came out shaky and uncertain, in another time and place. It had been early that morning; Amity moved from her usual seat so the rising sun didn't blind her eyes. She could hardly remember breakfast that morning; something sweet, she could remember.

“Ed and Emira were joking around with Father, trying to hide his eggs under a bunch of illusions,” normally, maybe she’d chuckle, but the memory hung heavy in her mind. Her father’s laugh was deep and throaty as he hunted for the real pile of eggs with his fork; he could see through the illusion, obviously, but he always seemed to humor the twins.

  
“I thought it was funny, so I summoned an abomination hand to pull his hood over his head,” Amity remembered chuckling under her breath as the twins howled and cackled. She joined in with their laughing, watching her father’s confused look, almost expecting him to laugh along with them, for once, just for once. Her spirits sank almost as quickly as they rose, though, as the abomination hand was behind her in a flash, pulling her cowl’s hood over her head so hard it forced her head to snap down. Amity bit her tongue to repress a yelp as her forehead made painful contact with the edge of the table. _How does that feel, Amity? I should expect better from you._

  
“He got mad at me and- he got mad and-” and why couldn't she breathe? “He- he pulled my ho-hood over my head and I- I hit the edge of the table.” Amity remembered instinctively biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from crying in that moment.   
“Ed and Em tried to- tried to s-stand up for me,” She briefly remembered Edric rubbing her forehead, looking concerned. Emira said something to her dad, something about not going so hard on mittens. Her name is Amity, their mother said coldly, not out of concern but out of exclusion.

  
“And I- I don't even remember what happened that made her do it but- but my mom said she thought it was a great- a great time to bring- b-bring something up and she pull- pulled out my diary,” Amity began to hyperventilate as she remembered, her voice turning up a pitch at the end, almost sounding confused. Her mother had pulled out the diary, setting it down in the middle of the table. She asked Amity to explain what it was. She couldn't. Her mother began to prattle on; something about keeping secrets from the family when she knew they could “help”, but Amity didn't know what that help entailed. She then forced it into Amity’s hands, nodding down at her daughter condescendingly and semi-asking, semi-demanding her to read from it.

  
Amity’s words escape her as she keeps explaining, feeling a hand rubbing comforting yet dizzying circles on her back. There was a lot of yelling exchanged; about her feeling sorry about Willow. About her crush on Luz. About her relationship with Luz. About her special interests. There were a lot of threats against Eda; Amity finally snapped. She shut the Diary, standing up from her seat furiously. She barely even remembered what she said, but she remembered feeling… scared. Beyond terrified, beyond frightened, beyond anything that could describe how strongly her hands shook as she also felt oddly emboldened.  
She had a choice.

  
Either she’d rat out Eda, Lilith, and Luz…

  
Or she would no longer be a Blight.

  
“I didn't… I didn't want to lose you guys,” Amity’s voice was just barely above a small squeak. “I couldn't- I couldn’t do that.”

  
“Aww, baby’s first act of treason.”

  
“Read the room, King,” Eda chastised him, but Amity found herself choking out a laugh. A laugh that… quickly dissolved into yet another sob. She leaned forward once more, resting her head in her hands, elbows on her bandaged knees. Her hand covered her mouth, shoulders shuddering silently. The room froze for a moment; still, the truth of the morning hanging heavy in the air. The tension was thick, sliced carefully by an unsure hand.

  
“I’m so sorry, Amity,” all in the house were surprised to hear Lilith speak first. Amity looked up at her old mentor, a little confused.

  
“I mean, thanks?” She said questioningly. “It’s a little too late. Not much any of us can do about it now, and it's partially my fault anyways-”

  
“This was never your fault, Kid,” Eda interjected. “You had every right to stand up for yourself, and you didn't deserve any of this. Never forget that. You are a child; you are allowed to feel and like things, and your parents are a pair of uptight assholes who project their failure onto their own kids.”

  
“But- they never did this to the twins.”

  
“That’s the unfortunate part, kiddo,” Eda shrugged. “That's something you can't change about them, and it isn't your fault. It's theirs for not being mature enough to properly take care of their kids.” Amity shakily sighed.

  
“I don't… I don't think I can forgive them,” she confessed.

  
“You don't have to,” Eda wrapped her hands around Amity’s. “You don't owe them anything anymore, and you aren't responsible for them. Amity- look me in the eyes- you don't owe them forgiveness.”

  
“But…” Amity tilted her head. “You forgave Lilith.” The two sisters looked at each other over Amity, sharing a sorrowful, uncomfortable glance. Lilith sighed, turning away.

  
“It's different,” Eda spoke softer. “Lilith… she made a mistake. She had good intentions. And hell, she put in effort to do better and be a better sister. But what your parents did- that's unforgivable, Kiddo. They made no effort to change for the better, and they certainly haven't made a single effort to apologize. And even if they do- you still don't owe them anything.” 

  
“Yeah!” Luz chimed in, crossing over to tenderly set a hand on Amity’s knee. “And because I know you- I want you to know that you're not weak! You're powerful and so strong for being able to get through this. Even just coming here; you went to the people you knew could help you. That's something to be proud of.”

  
Amity rolled those words around in her head, reduced to silently sniffling with the last of her tears. Powerful… on her own terms. Not for anybody else but herself. She thinks it's a nice idea. She leans forward, kissing Luz’s little forehead. She then leans back again, unsure of how to express affection to the witches at either of her sides.

  
“Thank you,” She began, “so much.” Eda smiled, pulling Amity into an awkward sort of side-hug.

  
“Aw, it's really no problem kid,” Eda gave the younger witch a gentle squeeze. “You’re welcome to stay here if you like. We got a few more rooms than what it looks like on the outside, and It doesn't have to be permanent. It can just be until you find somewhere else.”

  
“...please,” Amity squeaked. She wanted to stay, she wanted to stay here so desperately. “I… I really want to stay. I feel a lot better… here.”

  
“Of course,” Eda then turned to the young human kneeling in front of the group. “Luz, help Amity find a room- and no, you two can't share. I trust you both, don't get me wrong, but- a rule’s a rule.”

  
Luz fake-pouted for a moment before grinning. “On it!” She bounced to her knees, holding out a hand for Amity. Amity laced their fingers together, giving her girlfriend’s hand a gentle squeeze, appreciating how soft and warm it was. She let Luz guide her nervously upstairs, as she took in her new home. It was… crowded, and messy, and chaotic, and definitely something a Blight wouldn't approve of… but it was also colorful, and warm, and loud with laughter instead of empty and cold and desolate. Eda was no interior designer and it showed, but it felt more welcoming than the carefully polished furniture ad that was Blight Manor.

  
And she thinks she’ll really like it here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, why is editing these stories on an iPad so glitchy?


	4. Warming Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wholesome Lumity to cut all of the sadness!
> 
> Supportive GF Luz is my lifeblood,,, love that shit

_It’s cold outside-_

_actually-_

_did you know that?_

_It’s cold outside;_

_It’s icy and bitter and hard_

_My skin is pale_

_My veins are stark and bruised_

_But do I come inside?_

_It’s warmer and more buttery-soft than anything I can remember_

_But it’s unfamiliar_

_I was cold for so long_

_That it lost all pain_

_It’s cold outside;_

_Do I want to come in?_

_——_

It’s too hard to get comfortable. It’s not the noise; it’s just the dim, usual clinking of late night conversation, gentle and quiet enough to sleep though. It’s not the light peering under her door, it’s just faint enough to sleep through. And It’s definitely not the sleeping bag; It’s comfortable, and it used to belong to Luz, and it smells like her in a way that calms Amity’s nerves just slightly. 

No; instead, it’s the way her hair startled her every time it landed in her face. It was the way the shadows blended and warped and dripped, flushing dusty, abomination purple in the dim light. It was the invisible eyes that seemed to peer at her from the corners. Amity groaned, pressing her face into the pillow, to no avail. Despite her previous exhaustion, she felt uneasy, restless. She leaned up, rubbing her eyes tiredly and glancing out the window- she spooked, startling backward with a cry. She looked up at the... nothing. It was just the sky- what had scared her?

Almost as soon as she’d Thought this, there was a knock at her door. Amity froze, hands clutching the blankets instinctively.

“Amity!” A familiar voice called. “You okay?” Amity sighed, stumbling to her feet, trying to avoid looking at the bruises and bandages. She approached the door, reaching for the doorknob and... pausing. She leaned against the door, the wood comfortingly cold against her cheek. She took in deep breaths, feeling almost fevered. She turned the doorknob, letting Luz in.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Luz was welcoming and sweet, setting a soft hand on Amity’s upper arm. 

“I’m... fine?” Amity said, almost questioningly. “I can’t really sleep.”

“Oh!” Luz retracted the hand. “You want me to leave you alone, then? So you can relax?”

“I- no, no, come in,” Amity stepped to let her inside. Luz entered the room, looking around; boxes of human junk crowded the walls, and the window let in a plume of silvery moonlight. There were small bits of owl down on the floor, along with Amity’s sleeping bag. Luz dared to reach out, lacing her fingers with Amity’s gently. She smiled warmly in return, giving Luz’s fingers a gentle squeeze.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Eugh, not now,” Amity groaned, pulling Luz close and burying her face in the crook of the human’s neck. “Just... come sit down. Please.” Luz nodded, gently guiding the two to the sleeping bag and stumbling down to rest. Amity tucked her face into Luz’s warm skin, pressing her cheek against her shoulder. Her arms rested loosely around the human’s waist, pulling her closely every so gently. Luz embraced Amity, nuzzling into the witch’s mint colored hair. The two’s heartbeats were faintly audible to each other, breaths in sync. Amity shifted, relaxing her weight against Luz, humming softly.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Amity?”

“No- gods, obviously not,” Amity groaned. “Nothing that happened today is okay, I just... I just want to sleep, Luz.” 

“That’s alright! That’s- yeah, perfectly alright!” Luz squeaked out.

“Are you okay, Luz?”

“I- yeah, what kind of question is that? Of course i’m Fine, Mittens, never been more fine-“

“Luz,” Amity leaned up, gently cupping Luz’s cheek with a feather-soft touch. “You can talk to me.”

“...I’m worried for you, Amity,” Luz confessed. “I know you’re hurting and it- it hurts me to see you like this! You’re so wonderful and you don’t deserve to go through this.”

“Oh,” Amity let out a breath she barely even knew she was holding. She tucked her head back into Luz’s neck, nuzzling into the spot. She felt Luz giggle, remembering that her girlfriend was ticklish with a smile. She nuzzled into the spot again, Luz chortling and snorting with laughter. Luz leaned away from her girlfriend, shaking her head.

“Q-quit it!” Luz giggled. 

“That tickles!” 

“Sorry,” Amity giggled, before yawning. She leaned her head on Luz’s chest once again, snuggling up to her girlfriend. 

“Eda said we couldn’t share a room-“ 

“It’s just one night,” Amity mumbled. “Just one night. Please... stay.” Luz chuckled, pulling Amity closer and settling into the sleeping bag. 

“Goodnight, Mittens.” 

“Goodnight, Luzura,” The two exchanged a giggle as they drifted off into dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter today! I’ve been a bit busy as of late.


	5. There's Magic Everywhere / Laughter for the Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early morning in the Owl House, warm and free. A little bit of a spacer, I will admit, as I fully figure out where this story is going.

There’s magic in everything.  
In the water rivulets that run down my thighs in the shower;  
The little lightning marks light up my scars;  
The little stars of water droplets on my shoulders;  
The dim, peach light.

There’s magic in the woods;  
The popping of fungi  
The birdsong  
The thrumming of life  
Wild and green;  
It’s a spell, all on its own.

There’s magic by the sea;  
Aphrodite casts her spell   
Over a seaside crowd;  
The blue, wavy sky  
Beset by seafoam clouds,  
And you are the seaside sun.

There’s magic in you;  
It flows through your veins  
And guides your hand,  
Your scars are glyphs   
That glow pink.  
They guide you to healing.

There’s magic in you;  
Use it wisely.

\----

“I specifically remember you telling them not to share a room.”

“Eh, it's just one night-” Eda rubbed the sleep from her eyes “-just as long as it doesn't continue.”

“Should we be concerned for Amity?” Lilith peered into the cracked door of the girl’s room, early morning light sifting in through the cracked window, view outside warped from the interdimensional interior of the house. The two young girls were curled up together, Amity’s hand tangled limply in Luz’s hair, Luz clutching the witch protectively close.

“Oh, 100%,” Eda whispered. “That kind of rejection hurts, coming from anyone… but I also have a feeling that this isn't really… new to her, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, I'm not the most versed on stuff like this, but…” Eda hissed, leaning against the wall. “I’m kinda beginning to think that her parents are uhh… maybe more than a little abusive.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Lilith wheezed. “Do you remember what Iridia Blight did to us when we were in school?”

“Eh, not really,” Eda awkwardly scratched the back of her neck, hissing as she nicked a particularly fresh scar. “Kinda repressed most of those days, y’know? All blurry.” Lilith paused, pressing her lips shut. The silence hung awkwardly between them, unbalanced and uneasy.

“Well, not to go into detail,” Lilith shifted her weight uncomfortably. “But I'm not exactly surprised.” Eda opened her mouth to speak, but shut it once more, choosing to simply nod her head.

“You can talk to me about it if you want.”

“Not now,” Lilith turned away from her sister. “There’s much newer and bigger issues at hand, and… besides. That was decades ago.” Eda crossed over to her sister, setting a hand on her shoulder and gently shaking it as she walked away.

“Alright then,” Eda said. “Suit yourself.” Lilith went to join her sister in the stairwell, then paused. She turned around, peering back through the cracked door. She sighed, memories settling heavy in her mind and painfully in her chest, nails pressing crescents into her palms as she clutched her fists tightly. However, seeing Amity shift and her hand twitch in Luz’s hair, Lilith took a step back, turning for the stairwell.

“I might be able to help her.”

“Amity?”

“Who else?” Lilith rhetorically hissed. “I- I was close to Irid-” she sucked in a breath “-her mother. When we were in school. Obviously, I didn't face near the volume of abuse Amity did, but… I think I can help her.” Eda glanced over her sister skeptically, humming neutrally.

“Maybe,” Eda spoke slowly. “Or, you can accidentally add to whatever’s weighing her down. That’s a tricky path to cross, Lilith.”

“You don't trust me?”

Eda hummed, making a few awkward hand gestures before replying. “Not… exactly,” Eda’s voice raised an octave or two. “Your track record isn't the best.”

“That's true,” Lilith resigned. “I just… I wasn't a good mentor to her. I feel like I need to make it up to her somehow.”

“That’s valid, but-” Eda countered. “Give the girl some time to settle in first.” Lilith simply nodded, stepping off the stairwell.

\----

The sunlight is warm and bright as it filters in through the warped window, chasing away the shadowy corners and watchful eyes. Night Creatures scatter away from the sunflower light, and the morning is welcomingly new. The breeze is Cautious; the isle itself seems to know how important this day will be. The demons in the woods turn away from the house- “not today,” they think.

Amity’s eyes slowly blinked open, almost snapping up to attention as she saw the sunlight- she usually wasn't allowed to wake up this late- before things came falling into place one at a time. First, she saw the crumbling boxes of human “artifacts”, piled high on top of each other. Secondly, she saw Luz before her, skin a warm tan in the golden, early morning light. Amity absentmindedly brushed a few Raven waves of hair out of Luz’s face, knuckles grazing soft skin. She let out a shaky breath, so unaccustomed to the tenderness of the scene. It made her skin crawl in a not-entirely-unpleasant way that made her hands shake. Thirdly… the previous day. Amity pressed her eyes shut, letting out an uneasy breath as she set her head back down on the pillow, the tip of her nose pressed gently against Luz’s. The human girl’s breath ghosts gently against Amity’s lips and chin, causing the witch to flush a light pink. She feels almost intrusive, watching the other girl sleep like this. The moment traps her heart in an uneasy spot, caught by her throat, beating in her ears. She turns away from Luz awkwardly, only to feel a pair of arms tighten around her waist and a face materialize next to her’s, a chin resting on her shoulder and a cheek pressed to her neck. Amity clasps her hands over Luz’s, and it feels comforting. Protective, but not smothering. 

Her hands then itch for her Diary, for a pen and paper, something; it's a morning for poetry. “How can you…” Amity mumbles to herself, trying to remember a concept she can't phrase. “Your hands on my stomach hold in an essential part of me you might never see… hmph. No.”

“Morning Mittens,” Luz absentmindedly greeted the poet.

“Good morning, Luz,” Amity sighed wistfully, reaching up a hand to ruffle her girlfriend’s hair.

“How’re ya feeling?”

“Hungry,” Amity scoffed. “Couldn't really bring myself to eat much yesterday.”

“Makes sense,” Luz leaned up to press a small kiss to Amity’s cheek. “You wanna head downstairs? I can make pancakes!” Luz dragged out the final word in a sing-song voice, earning a laugh from the other girl.

“Of course,” Amity untangled herself from Luz and the sleeping bag, offering out a hand to help her girlfriend up. Luz took it, stumbling up to her feet and letting go. Waltzing to the door, she opened it with a mock-bow.

“After you, my witch,” she said, voice exaggeratedly formal. Amity felt a light bubble up from her chest, taking the chance to ruffle Luz’s hair on the way out.

“Nerd.”

“Still a nerd you’ve smooched!”

"And still my fearless champion."

\----

“It feels so weird not to hear Hooty,” King mused. “It's peaceful… I hate it.”

“SHE STILL SCARES ME!” Hooty chimed in from outside.

“Yeah, kid-” Eda chimed in “-for future reference, maybe don't beat up my security system.”

“And for future reference-” Amity half joked “he shouldn't invade my personal space!”

“She has a point,” Lilithn dully chimed in. Eda threw her hands up, exasperatedly sighing.

“Okay- well- don't come crying to me when,” Eda cuts herself off, taking a gander around the room. Maybe… this wasn't the time to make that joke. She clears her throat, “bird tubes aside; how’s it going, Blight?”

“My name is Amity,” She immediately cringed at that- yeah, okay Amity, be rude to the people giving you a home, let's see how well that turns out “-and it's.. going.”

“Eh, when isn't it?” Eda shrugged lightheartedly, sipping once again from her mug. She then glanced around the room, humming as she took a detailed, skeptical look over everybody. The older witch pursed her lips, tapping her chin in thought.

“I have a feeling that you have an idea.”

“You're right, sister.”

“I didn't say it was a good feeling.”

“Too late- it's an amazing idea,” Eda went so far as to set her mug down. “Luz, in the front left corner of my closet is my collection of tacky shirts-”

“Oh titan,” Amity cringed as the realization dawned on the group.

“Three out of the four of us witches have tacky shirts,” Eda chuckled. “Luz, please join the club, we need to restore balance.”

“On it!” The human cried out excitedly, skipping out of the kitchen. Amity rolled her eyes, before leaning on the kitchen counter and looking at her untouched pancakes. She plucked off a piece with her fork, taking a bite and humming delightedly. They were a buttery sort of salty-sweet, fluffy and chewy and possibly one of the best things Amity had eaten. She took a couple more bites, before pausing as she heard a voice, eyes widening as she realized the true, embarrassing reason Luz had been sent out of the room-

“So,” Eda said casually, “You and Luz-”

“Oh no-”

“Oh don't worry, you're not in trouble,” Eda clarified. “Just… try not to have a repeat of last night.”

“Sorry,” Amity turned her attention to the floor, suddenly the same color as Eda’s mug of apple blood. She then squeaked, feeling Eda ruffle her hair.

“Eh, it's alright, kiddo,” Eda chuckled with a wink. “You were having a rough night, I’ll let that one slide.” 

Amity opened her mouth to respond, but was greeted instead by the boundless ball of energy that was Luz Noceda. Said ball of energy was now wearing a black t-shirt emblazoned flames and the phrase “BE BI, COMMIT CRIME”.

“That looks…” Amity was at a loss.

“Absolutely cursed and wonderful,” Eda clapped her hands together excitedly.

“It's certainly something,” Lilith hummed. Luz then smirked, sliding up to Amity’s side.

“You were saying, Amity?” 

“It looks… it looks great, Luz,” Amity blushed, turning away and back to her pancakes. She took a bite, almost choking as she heard Lilith’s response.

“Well, you two seem to be good friends,” Lilith smiled innocently. Luz sputtered in her spot, face cherry-red and hands gesturing erratically as she searched for a response. King snickered into his pillow, and Eda choked on her apple blood before hooting, doubled over with laughter. Amity sank into her pancakes, face just as flushed as her girlfriend’s.

“What’s so funny?” Lilith tilted her head. Eda set down her mug, wheezing worryingly loudly. Luz awkwardly chuckled, extending an arm around Amity’s shoulders. “Have I misread something?”

“Well- uhm- Miss Lilith,” Luz began, stuttering. “Amity’s actually my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Lilith hummed casually, before stopping. She glanced to Eda, then between the two girls, and then back at Eda, and back and forth for a few moments. “Oh!”

“You didn't realize that until now?” Eda wheezed. Lilith simply rolled her eyes, turning back to her cup of coffee. Amity polished off her pancakes, face pink and feeling feverishly warm. She leaned into Luz’s side, however, not embarrassed enough to pull away.

The chatter continued, casual and punctuated with Eda’s barking laughter. Luz and Amity stuck close together, warm and comfortable, their heads leaning against one another. Amity felt… surprisingly calm. Her mind didn't drift to the day before, like she’d expected it to. Of course, she still felt rattled somehow, uneasy and frightened. This was so new and so sudden, she almost felt like she couldn't help but be calm, like her brain physically wouldn't let her do anything else. It was worrying, but… she knew she had to take this one step at a time.

One step at a time, and while she didn't know where she’d end up, she felt like it would be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No longer doing anything in the "rich text" setting, that it waaaayyy too glitchy. One day I'll figure out how to get my pretty formatting back...
> 
> Oh! And expect some more characters to appear soon :)) this is still a character study + Amity's recovery, I just thought it might be nice to have a little extra fluff before then.


	6. First Day of School - Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh? What is this? A chapter split into two parts?
> 
> Amity returns to school, to a shocking set of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attacks, dissociation, and derealization

Could I know you ever again?  
I once knew every gear that shifted in your head-  
Every turn  
Every maze.

But when I willfully forgot  
I know you changed;  
I know I hurt you to the point of change.

If I could;  
Just once;  
Be kind to you again;  
Could I know you ever again?

\----

“Nervous?” Luz asked. Amity’s eyes were cast up at the sky, watching Eda fly away discreetly and disappear into the cloud cover above. She sucked in a breath, smiling back at Luz as the two began to walk towards the school.

“Not really,” Amity chuckled, trying not to sound tense, gripping her book bag tightly in order to not show her hands shaking. “I think things are gonna turn out alright.”

“Yeah!” Luz then seemed to soften, bowing closer to Amity, voice quiet. “You might even get to see the twins.” Amity seemed troubled by this, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

“That's kind of the problem,” Amity confessed. “I don't… I don't know how they're going to react. Mother and Father always treated them better than me, and I know they're going to feel bad about me getting kicked out, but… I just don't want them to blame me.”

“Why would they blame you? You didn't do anything wrong, Amity.”

“I know, Luz,” Amity gestured with her hands, seemingly frustrated at having trouble finding an answer. “I just… I can't really describe it. I'm sorry.”

“Oh, don't apologize!” Luz hopped over, tossing an arm around Amity’s shoulders and tugging her close. “I know you have trouble with words sometimes; and I understand how you feel.” Amity returned a smile, though she found herself unable to relax into her girlfriend’s side-hug as they neared the school. Amity’s skin crawled in an unnerving way as they approached the doors of the school, hands tensing up as she felt the eyes on her. She’d been given a new uniform- on account of Eda and Principal Bump wiggling their way around loopholes and shortcuts to get her back into school- so it wasn't like she was returning to school with a bloody cowl and ripped stockings. And the… incident with her parents had been so recent, there was no way anybody knew about it publicly, right?

Amity resisted the urge to hum and push her fingers into her hair, to tap her fingertips against her skull calmingly. Stimming in public was still something she resisted strongly, the years of conditioning needing much more than just one night to unravel. She straightened her spine, tilting her chin up, and unwrapping herself from Luz. Hearing a confused noise from the human girl, Amity smiled, intertwining their fingers- they had their first class of the day together, so it wasn't like they were forced to separate.

“Amity! Luz!” A familiar lad called out, approaching the two. The pastel Blue of the illusions track uniform caught Amity’s eye, stealing her breath suddenly. She cleared her throat, scratching the back of her wrist to dissuade the need to stim. It was just fabric, why was she so caught off guard by it?

“Gus!” Luz cried out, pulling Amity along with her as she skipped over to the much shorter witch. “What’s up?” The two high-fived (a gesture Amity still didn't fully understand), though Gus looked uneasy. His eyes danced around between them and the students in the hall.

“Not much! Buuuuut-” He dragged out the last word. “A bunch of people keep whispering about Amity and I didn't know what was going on, so I asked Willow about it but then I remembered she probably didn't want to talk about Amity-” ouch, that one hurt “-so I went to go listen to some other students, but what they were saying didn't make any sense, so I went to go hunt down Edric and Emira, but they're kind of impossible to get a straight answer from, so now I’m here! What happened?”

Luz tried to share a concerned look with Amity, only to find her girlfriend staring far ahead into the hall, eyes glassy and far-off. Her shoulders shuddered as she took deep breaths, and she seemed to be biting her lips. With a sudden flush of crimson to her face, she let go of Luz’s hand, whipping around and walking swiftly down the Illusion track hall.

“Hey! Amity! Wait up,” Gus called out, the other two following closely behind Amity as she dodged whispering clumps of students.

“Ed and Em’s first class is behind y-”

“Those two have been skipping first hour for the past two weeks,” Amity fired back. “I know where those two idiots are.” Amity blinked back tears that wanted to well up, ignoring the choke in her voice. Her throat tied itself into painful knots as she held back tears, knowing if she said anything else that she’d start sobbing again. Slipping around a corner and through illusioned warning tape, she entered the abandoned illusions hall, all dim lighting and empty classrooms. It felt dull, hollow. Perfect for two tricksters to haunt; and just as Amity thought this, she shoulder-checked a shrouded, navy blue apparition, cringing as she heard Luz get spooked by the false specter. Stopping in front of the old Room #31-ILL, she jiggled the locked doorknob.

“To find the twins that you seek, answer these riddles three,” growled an exaggeratedly spooky voice.

“It's me, Emira,” Amity snapped. “Open up.”

The door then clicked, flying open to reveal Emira Blight. Her usually braided hair was now down, and chopped straight to her collarbones. Her wavy hair had been lightened to a leafy green color, and a wild, exasperated smile stretched across her features. Amity yelped surprisedly as her older sister swept her into a tight hug, spinning the two around. As she processed all that had happened, she hugged her sister back, crying out with joy. She smiled so widely that the scratches on her face began to hurt again, and a hiss of pain made Emira finally set her down. Emira then glanced around, seeing Luz and Gus and gesturing for them to join the siblings in the classroom. The door shut ominously behind the group, the silence tense.

“Mittens!” Edric cried out, approaching his little sister and ruffling her hair. “You're okay!”

“Physically, at least,” Amity grumbled, batting at his hand. She then looked up, eyes widening in realization. “Emira! Your hair!”

“Oh yeah!” Emira gestured to her new haircut and color. “Did this kind of impulsively; Edric helped. Mom and dad… when they cast you out, they asked us to never talk about you ever again.”

“So- naturally- Emira trashed dear old dad’s office and asked me to bleach her hair. She chopped it herself.”

“I did it out of solidarity,” Emira’s voice was uncharacteristically fiery and serious. “I Couldn't let them just forget about you; I wanted them to be forced to think about what they did for as long as we’re both stuck with them.”

Amity’s throat tied itself into knots again, tears springing to her eyes again. She could hear Luz say something, but the words didn't register, her ears were too busy pressing flat against her head and ringing loudly. The room began to spin and warp, head feeling light and stomach churning; she wanted to feel joy, to feel the same empowerment that Emira did, but it just made her feel sick. Her lungs seemed to fail her, her breath wheezing and strangled. It all crashed down on her shoulders, heavy and painful and sharp, forcing a sob out of her. Knees crumbling beneath her, the voices and hand on her shoulder barely registered- 

Amity The Witch, a Blight upon those around her, little miss perfect, star student, top of the class, abomination, failure, Amity Blight, Blight, Blight. The names swirled in her head, this head wasn't her’s, this brain was an imposter, this body was wrong and it wasn't her’s. Who’s Amity? Not an instance of embarrassment, but of a brain forced into shape. In two worlds, a hand pushes itself into spring reeds; fingertips tap a pale skull, thundering like drum beats, like a woodpecker’s clicking thuds. A small child’s hands brush summery grass, sweet and sunny and calming, a stream bubbling nearby, the sun blushing her cheeks, the wind coddling and soft. A bird sings; it's childish and playful and it elicits a giggle. This child was never lost; she never existed. This child does not exist, and This child can never come back.

There was a shriek, and a frightened series of squeaks as Amity The Witch shook her head, tucking it down as if struck. She sobbed, wailing once again for a childhood she never had and would never get back. Tears splashed onto a pair of gentle hands set before her knees, one of two pairs, baptizing the other in their loved one’s emotions. It dripped off their hands and to the floor, uncomfortably hot and salty, like a boiling sea. The boiling sea was temperamental and humid and suffocating, and it felt untouchable. Unlovable. Avoided.

“Amity,” a voice gently called out. Amity The Witch took the hands, hoping they could pull her out of her own confusing mind. Her grip was tight and shaky, her crying unnervingly silent. It was isolating; you could see her cry, you could see her face go tomato red and wet with tears, you could see her body shake and shiver. But you couldn't hear her. You didn't know if you weren't allowed to. You didn't want to know.

“Amity,” another voice; a young man’s. Edric Blight’s. Amity The Wi-

No.

Amity.

Just that.

Amity looked down at the hands she was squeezing; also Edric’s. Emira’s hand was on her shoulder; she couldn't look at her sister. She felt thankful, but something about being faced with that mirror of who she could have been felt wrong. She looked up- Gus seemed confused, but concerned. The sentiment was there, it was alright. Luz’s hands covered her mouth, and she was kneeling; Amity felt weirdly ashamed. She saw the teardrops on Luz’s hands, those hands she wanted to hold for so long. Those hands she had held. Her hands covered the lips Amity had spent so long studying, and the shame rolled in her gut. The light from the door’s window cast a halo of light around Luz, singling her out and making her glow. Amity had been taught this was so wrong; so disgusting; so inherently… adult. She was technically a child, mental age be damned; something felt so inappropriate about her crush on Luz. Like this couldn't be some silly childhood crush; this had to be serious.

But Luz… was different. She was unashamed. She was childish, but smart and respectful and mature in a way that made Amity yearn for a simpler time that just didn't exist to her. She’d been thrown into a role too soon; grown up too quickly. For a long time, she didn't know if she was yearning for Luz or for what she meant to Amity. And as it turned out… it was both.

Luz stood up, and Amity was just barely able to stop herself from pulling her back. She said something; words still weren't fully registering. There was a scratching sound that made Amity tilt her head, confused; Aha! A pencil was scribbling something. Her brain processed slowly, and she tapped her fingers against her skull again, trying to bring herself back, and then Luz was kneeling before her once more. Her siblings scooted aside, watching with confusion and concern. Gus asked a question that Luz cut off with a ‘shh’.

“Here,” Luz whispered tenderly, tapping the paper. An orb of light shimmered and popped up from the paper like a bubble, floating in place. Amity cupped it with her hand, the light calming and distracting. Luz’s hand grazed hers, the contact cautious and feather light. Amity leaned into the touch; Luz’s hands were warm and soft.

This wasn't shameful, at all.

It couldn't have been.

“Hey, Mittens,” her brother cautiously approached. Amity nodded, silent, nonverbal for the time being. She heard Gus hum excitedly; with a swirl of his finger, there was a tiny owl hopping around the floor. It was round and waddling and a warm russet brown, its pale moon face round and happy. Amity smiled at it, silently thanking the younger wizard. The group was quiet, giving her all the space and time she needed.

The group would end up skipping that first class of the day; this was too important. They’d sit in the abandoned, new-looking desks, covering the mirrors in the room. Emira tied her hair back into a ponytail, tossing her hood up over it; she didn't know exactly what had gone on, but… she had a feeling that the sentiment was a little misplaced. Luz was supportive and decided to turn down the energy for the time being, just a little bit. Gus was… admittedly, a little unfamiliar to the group as a whole, but had fun. Maybe he’d have to skip class with the Blight twins more often.

Amity was silent for most of it, but happy and warming up to it. When Luz began to explain the Azura books to the older twins, Amity found herself excitedly flapping her hands against her knees. She saw the twins smile at this, but they didn't comment on it much further. It felt better, somehow, than some misplaced compliment.

It was the first day back at school…

And Amity felt a little more stable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the title of the story, since the title "Amity The Witch" ended up changing meanings here. Originally a way to separate herself from her parents, it ended up being a sign of her derealization and dissociation. She's just Amity, Amity B if you really want to know...
> 
> And eventually, maybe Amity Noceda.


	7. The First Day of School - Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act Two of the first day back at school - Amity makes some apologies and cuts off some ties.

There were once twin flames;  
Bright and burning and destructive;  
Fueled by money;  
Fueled by anger;  
Fueled immaturely by emotion;  
So bright and hot you couldn't ignore.

Mine wasn't doused;  
Don't say I'm a puddle of soggy ash;  
I am no patch of mud.

Mine was changed;  
Warm and loving;  
Destruction still left in its path;  
But now it is no longer used to hurt.  
It heals of his own volition.

Can I say the same for your’s?  
Is that warmth or a lure?  
Is that love or fuel?  
Is that still destruction?

My flame has changed for the better;  
Can I say the same for your’s?

*.*.*

The thought picked at Amity’s mind from the moment she saw the other witch; she needs to Apologize to Willow. She wants to lighten the air between them, just a little bit. She knows she can't fully reverse what she did… but she can make amends.

Amity was in the library during the last few minutes of her last class before lunch. Apparently she needed to find books on the history of Abominations, something about history beginning to repeat itself. The lecture had settled a little weirdly with her, to be completely honest; after Luz’s run in with the emperor and her own run-in with her parents… the motifs of repeating history made her feel flighty and anxious.

Her hands ran over the spines of the old, creaky, thick books, all faded jewel tones and metallic letters. The titles were nearly Impossible to read, all Old Runic and awkwardly verbose, with little regard for spelling. Apparently, you just had to nail a word’s pronunciation while also sounding fancy enough to pass in high society. She slipped a particularly long book off the shelf, blood running cold as she saw a familiar ponytail of blonde ringlets on the other side of the shelf.

“Well, Moiradda said she got sent to the conformatorium, but her mom’s an identity thief and left her for the conformatorium’s old head guard, so what does she know?” Skara gossiped. Amity hid behind the thick wall of books, listening to the girls’ talking.

“Nah, the Blights aren't that showy,” Amity almost gagged as she heard Boscha’s voice. “Probably won't even use it to gain sympathy. They’d probably do something like that if it was the twins, but… they didn't really care about Amity.”

“But she always looked so happy!”

“And? They pushed her on us because they didn't want to deal with her. She was so weird and annoying, she didn't fit with us. I just knew my mom would kill me if I didn't include her in stuff,” Amity balled her hands into fists, resisting the urge to snap at the group. Instead, she kept listening.

“Your mom is… so weird.”

“She just can't grow up; it's embarrassing.”

“Almost as embarrassing as Emira’s hair,” Skara giggled. Anger flashed hot in Amity’s head, her breath hitching. “Titan, what was she thinking? It’s not a good look on her.”

“At least she bleached her roots,” Boscha giggled. “Seriously, Amity’s hair looks like grass, it's fucking disgusting.”

“I bet she’s too busy acting fake-nice to take care of herself. Seriously, she’s fooling nobody; that human is a charity act, we all know it.”

“Oh my titans, did you see them this morning?”

“Wait, no, what were they doing?”

“They were holding hands and it was like, so obnoxious; like we get it, you think you’re gonna get married one day even though you’re probably gonna break up in like, a week, because Little Miss Perfect can't make a single decision- and oh, oh my titan, her hair looked so greasy, I bet she smells horrible right now,” that was it. The final thing that made Amity snap- seeing red, she whipped around, huffing angrily as she began walking swiftly towards the two girls-

“Amity,” a quiet, nasally whisper caught her attention, a hand on her shoulder holding her back. “Don't. It's not worth it,” Amity whirled around with fire in her eyes to face the stranger-

Oh.

It was Willow.

Amity’s expression shifted to one of surprise, the spark of fire seemingly blown out. “Willow!” She whisper-gasped, unsure of what to say.

“What they're saying is horrible,” Willow said. “But you can't let them get to you. Nothing you can say will make them stop.”

“I know,” Amity grumbled. “I just- ugh, there’s nothing I can say to make this sound okay.”

“That makes sense,” Willow shrugged. “You’ve got kind of a temper- no offense.”

“None taken,” Amity then seemed to soften, looking Willow in the eyes. “I actually really wanted to talk to you about something. Want to sit down?” Willow looked over the taller witch skeptically, narrowing her eyes and scratching her chin. The few moments of tense silence seemed to stretch on for hours, the power completely taken from Amity’s hands for once.

“Sure,” Willow smiled and Amity let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. Willow turned, gesturing for Amity to follow behind. She led her ex-best friend to one of the library’s reading nooks, the peacock-blue cushions soft and squishy. Blue-hued light was cast through a stained glass window, the spot large enough for the girls to keep their distance as they sat down.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to apologize,” Amity began. “I know it won't entirely fix what I did, but you deserve an apology. You deserved a better friend and I'm sorry I couldn't be that for you, and I'm so sorry for causing you so much pain for so long. I hope I can somehow make it up to you, or that we can at least not hate each other.”

Willow seemed uneasy, leaning back into her pillows and humming. Amity absentmindedly and nervously tapped her hands on her ankles, shifting her weight uneasily. Her heart beat nervously in her chest, face slightly flushed.

“I accept your apology,” Willow offered a kind smile, and Amity let out a sigh of relief. “It’ll be awhile before I think I can fully trust you again, but I know you’ve changed. I'm proud of you! You’re trying your best.” Amity couldn't help but smile; she couldn't remember the last time she’d heard that. That somebody was proud of her. She wanted to reach out for a hug, but there was such a thing as moving too fast and she didn't want to overstep her boundaries. Instead, Willow held out a flat hand… confusingly enough.

“High five,” she said. “It's a human thing- here,” she scooped up Amity’s hand, clapping them together. Amity chuckled awkwardly, trying the gesture again and… yeah. It was alright.

*.*.*

Lunch rolled around excitedly, the group of friends chewing down. Luz sat close by Amity’s side, gesturing wildly as she talked about plot threads and symbolism in the Azura books. Amity was entranced by the conversation, infatuated with the excited way Luz stuttered and smiled, the twinkle in her eyes making Amity feel warm and soft. She occasionally flicked her hands, resisting the urge to excitedly flap them. Luz would notice this and while she didn't say anything about it, she’d flash Amity a specific, appreciative smile that brought a flush to her face. The young witch’s pointed ears twitched affectionately, a sign of joy and affection. Gus asked the most questions, unclear if it was out of genuine curiosity or out of knowing that talking about it more would make Luz even happier. Willow listened contentedly but didn't say much. Amity glanced over at her; the air between them was still… strange, but it felt lighter. And she was right, anyways. Amity felt a bit bad; if she’d just… done something differently, this could've turned out better. But the witch was bitter and running off perfectionism and teen anger, spite directed at every direction but the right one. She hopes so desperately that she’s changed.

“Amity,” Boscha’s voice dripped with false affection, sickly sweet as she almost seemed to appear behind Gus and Willow. “You look… just so interesting.”

“What do you want, Boscha?”

“Why should I want anything?” She fake-pouted, a hand raised to her chest. “I just want to wish my dear old friend luck-” she raised her voice “-I mean, having your parents kick you out can't be easy, is it?” Boscha slipped around the table, setting her hand on Amity’s shoulder and leaning her weight on it.

“Quit it, Boscha,” Luz turned around, a slight growl in her voice. “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Why are you all being so cruel? I really thought being abandoned by your parents for being such a failure would really humble a witch, Amity,” Boscha raised her voice in Amity’s ear, causing the girl to cringe. Shock and sorrow and anger battled over control for Amity, leaving her in a state of silence, her hands shaking, once twitching ears now pressed low and flat on her head. “I'm almost sorry for you, really. Or I would be, if your parents didn't constantly push you off on us because they didn't want you. And if you weren't so fake- let me ask the lunchroom-”

“Boscha, would you just shut up?” Amity cried out, whipping around to face the three-eyed girl. Boscha simply laughed, ruffling Amity’s hair condescendingly.

“Does anybody here actually believe that she’s friends with this… group? I mean, seriously, it's such a downgrade,” Boscha’s eyes scanned maliciously over Amity’s friends. “Especially when you bullied all of them for so long. It's such a charity case- why should any of us believe that you actually like them? Unless… Little Miss Perfect has become so desperate that she’s faking kindness because she knows that nobody. Wants. Her.”

“Boscha,” Amity stood, voice lowering an octave, surprisingly dry. “If nobody wants me, why did you call me every night in Eighth grade when your girlfriend turned out to be a puppet demon who was scamming your family out of scrolls?” 

“What’s the point of you bringing that up?”

“Just wondering. If I was just somebody you tolerated, then why didn't you have anybody else to turn to?” Boscha flushed a bright, angry shade of orchid-pink. “At least I have actual friends; I had somewhere to go after a traumatic event- which, by the way, is none of your business! If I was just somebody you tolerated, why didn't you go to any of your other “friends”? Kind of says a lot about you.”

“Aww, did your little girlfriend write that for you?” Boscha countered. “The Amity Blight I knew could barely even make a decision for herself, let alone stand up to somebody like that.”

“Nope,” Amity replied. “I'm done with people doing things for me. And even if she did; at least I still have friends who would do that for me. Could I say the same for you?”

“Maybe not,” Boscha growled. “But I knew you, Blight. And right now? You're acting exactly like you did all those years ago. You. Haven't. Changed. You’re still the same stuck up pig who likes to act like she cares about other people, when she’s really just using them to climb her way to the top.” Amity opened her voice to speak, but found herself cut off.

“You're wrong,” Willow urged, tone full of history and meaning. “You may have known Amity when she was a scared kid with nobody there for her, but that's your fault for being a bad friend! I know her now, and I know she’s changed. She is kind and loving and I'm glad to be somebody who supports her now. And I know that one day, she’ll do something great; can I say the same for you, Boscha? Will you do anything other than live off your parents money for-”

And then Boscha did something unexpected. She shoved Amity roughly out of the way, the young witch hitting the table and stumbling to the floor. In a flash, she’d crossed over to Willow and…

Punched her straight in the face.

There was a slight moment of silence before yet another crash, a moment that stretched on forever for Amity. For a moment, she saw her old in Boscha- a lonely child stripped of their childhood and innocence, lonely and thinking they could run on pure, cold, diamond-like rage forever. She expected to feel fear and shame looking at it, but… she felt a swell of pride in her chest. She grew beyond this; this wasn't her. She’d made progress… and she was allowed to be proud of herself.

“Don't say another goddamn word about my family,” Boscha snapped as two teachers rushed over to pull her away from the situation. Gus hopped up, helping Willow to her feet. Tears ran down her face, as well as blood trickling between the fingers covering her nose. Amity stood up, ignoring the shouts of her former friend and bully, and helped steady Willow, cooing words of comfort to the injured girl. 

“Hey, hey it's gonna be okay Willow, we’ll get you to the healers, don't worry,” Amity cooed as she brushed the tears off Willow’s round cheeks. Willow simply nodded. Gus and Amity wrapped arms around opposing sides of their friend, Luz trailing close behind as they walked her to the healer’s office. The minute they exited the crowded, shocked lunchroom, Willow finally spoke.

“Tha-thank you,” she sobbed.

“It's no problem,” Amity said tenderly, giving Willow a comforting squeeze. Things… obviously weren't fully healed for now. But there was hope.


	8. The Lilith Conflict / Goodnight, Eda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amity is faced with a choice and misplaced help, before having a heart-to-heart with Eda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied transphobia

Is it for you or for me?  
Do you know that this hurts me?  
That I’m not a stepping stone for your recovery?

  
And I don't wish for you to fall back-  
I know I shouldn't.

  
Why should I push you under as well?  
We join hands on this road together.

  
We could help each other  
If you’d just internalize  
That I was hurt too.

  
*.*.*

  
“Close your eyes,” Lilith’s voice was smooth, like a bubbling stream, and Amity couldn't tell what it was about it that annoyed her so much. She’d be fully ‘in the zone’ as Eda had put it, but then that voice would tick off some sort of nerve in Amity that would throw her off force. “Take deep breaths; forget yourself. Extend your hand; right now, you are not Amity Blight, you are the magic of the isles.”

  
Amity bit her tongue to hold back a snappy remark. She took in a deep breath, extending her arm and letting her body relax. She tuned into the sounds of the woods; there was a bird warbling somewhere, its song low and whistling. The breeze was picking up, blowing her hair across her forehead. A stream bubbled somewhere; the sound was silvery and curious. Her breaths fell in time with the breeze, the sounds blending easily together. There was a warmth at her fingertips that barely registered in her mind as her heartbeats matched the time signature of the thrumming bass of the woods around her-

  
“Good,” a whisper from Lilith brought this all down, snapping Amity back to where she started. Amity sucked in a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance before she could stop herself. “Is something bothering you, Amity?” The note of care in her voice somehow set the young witch off further.

  
“Could you… maybe be a bit quieter while I'm trying to focus?” Amity suggested. Lilith simply nodded, going to sit down. Amity pressed her eyes shut once more, hand drifting out. She imagined the wind blowing her thoughts out of her head, breathing out as the breeze blew, breathing in as it receded. The birdsong started up again, causing Amity to relax into her spot more. The silvery, upbeat stream gurgled distantly, The sudden minty chill in her fingertips barely registering with Amity as the wind began to pick up pace around her. She could almost feel the stream water running through her fingers, the earth thrumming beneath her boots. The familiar hum of magic blended the sounds together into a strange sort of melody, an image unfolding before Amity; the distant stream, its water clear, its path winding. A not-deer walked to the edge, dyr bent-backward not-legs walking in a rough staccato. Dyr dog’s “mouth” was open, dyr not-jaws containing anything but teeth. Dyr not-eyes were a shimmery, empty white, and dy didn't seem to dip dyr not-head, but dy left a ripple in the water as dy drank anyway.

  
Amity popped the spell circle, opening her eyes to see the Owl House clearing. The Not-Deer were respected from afar, not to be watched or invited or invoked; if they wanted you, they’d come find you.

  
“You ended that quickly,” Lilith mused. “Is Clairvoyance simply not an interest of yours?”

  
“The not-deer are going to be out tomorrow, I didn't want to disturb them.”

  
“The point of the spell is not to seek anything out, but to take what of the future is given to you,” Lilith said. “If you saw them, they wanted you. Try again.”

  
Amity concentrated once more, feeling slight unease as she did so. The image returned to her as her thoughts blew away in the breeze, the forest’s melody guiding her back to the stream. There was the not-deer again, dyr not-eyes peering straight through Amity’s. Dy turned and pulled Amity’s consciousness behind dyx as dy walked robotically through the woods. Dyr clicking not-hooves were a percussion instrument in the forest’s song, tapping and quiet. The two continued, space seeming to warp around them, carrying them much further than such a short walk should have pulled them.

  
The market buzzed with activity, though Amity was unable to hear anything but the forest, and the people carried about their day as if the not-Deer wasn't even there. In Amity’s peripheral, she could see a ghostly, plagued mask, a mockery of a dove’s face. She felt her blood run cold, and if she weren't conducting the spell, she would have spooked. The not-deer turned to face her; that wasn't what dy were trying to show her. When dy finally paused, the two found themselves outside of Eda’s booth, and a little uncomfortably close to a gossiping pair of students.

  
“I’ve been trying to get Xer to sell me a specific lampshade for months now; Xe just keeps saying that it's too ‘in style’ to end up in the trash,” one of the students- a healing track witch- scoffed. “Like, it's the only place I can get it, since a bunch of idiots kept hunting the lampshade heads, and now they're illegal to harvest.”

  
“Why does the lampshade matter to you?” They were an illusion track student, all braided hair and dark skin and little wheels of golden wings. “You’ve been kind of bitter lately, Moirada. Is everything okay?”

  
“If I’m being honest? Not really. I’ve just… been thinking about Mars” the healing student- Moirada, apparently- confessed. “And… My sister, Mars, had a lampshade like it. It was pink, and silky, but it used to be white; mom made her dye it. Said it “looked better in the house”. We both used to hate the pink color, but when our mom stole her ex girlfriend’s identity and ruined our family name… we decided to reclaim it. Use that pink color to thrive, make a sign of our personal success.”

  
“That makes sense,” the illusion student sighed. “And I think I understand the ‘reclaiming’ part. I initially kind of thought it would just… bring up bad memories.”

  
“Well, Mars and I made good memories out of it,” Moirada clarified. “We had so much fun together, locked up in our room… I miss her. A lot.”

  
“I miss her too,” The illusion student said, leaning her head on her friend’s shoulder.  
Amity’s knees felt weak, legs trembling, heart picking up its pace. Her stomach churned anxiously, and her eyes burned as if she’d looked into the sun as the not-deer turned back to her, not-eyes glowing blindingly bright and not-teeth shining as if dy were smiling.

  
The forest floor greeted Amity roughly. She sat up, spitting out a mouthful of grass blades, and groaning as she heard Hooty directly above her.

  
“HOOT HOOT-” good god, that voice was hard on ringing ears “-AMITY GOT CAUGHT SLEEP WALKING IN THE WOODS!” If it weren't for the fact that she lived there… Amity would have gladly kicked Hooty. Again.

  
“She wasn't sleepwalking,” Lilith pulled Amity up by her hand. “She was practicing a clairvoyance spell; Amity, you did much better than I’d expected! Good job!”

  
“Thanks,” Amity said, still spitting out some grass. She then thought back to what she’d just seen, just been shown by the not-deer; and it clicked into place. Requesting a break from Lilith, Amity walked to the cliff and sat down with her legs crossed. She brushed her hair behind her ear, faced with a choice; she could reclaim this. Succeed and Thrive, and turn a symbol of her mother’s neglect and torment into a symbol of her own success… but would it just be a reminder? Would she just be forced to think about it for the rest of her life? Or could she let the dye fade and let her natural hair color grow in? Neither of her parents had wanted that; she was supposed to fit in with the twins. But would she just be running from that problem? Would she just be putting a bandaid over a gaping wound? She went back and forth, barely noticing as she began to twist a stray strand of hair around her fingers.

  
“Amity,” Lilith’s voice was gentle as she sat down next to her protege. “You seemed to be troubled by something.”

  
“I am,” Amity said. “I'm still trying to make sense of everything. This is all still hitting me kind of fast.”

  
“That's understandable,” Lilith nodded. “I knew your mother as a student, and… I’m still processing it.”

  
“You knew my mom?” Amity turned to the older witch. “What was she like?”

  
“Oh, she… really hasn't changed in 20 years,” Lilith nervously laughed. “She would be friendly and docile to your face at first, but if you did anything she didn't see as fit… she’d turn on you. And when I say anything, I mean anything-” Lilith began to rant “-I don't know what I did that made her turn on me. I just- Edalyn and I were… trying to complete a transformation spell. It took a few days to process, and Iridia took it into her hands to reverse it as many times as possible. It was one of the most painful things I've had to go through.”

  
“Why were you trying to do a transformation spell?”

  
“That’s a question for Edalyn.”

  
“Why are you telling me this?” There was a pause.

  
“I thought it might help.”

  
“I…” Amity was at a loss. “It… it doesn't. You obviously still haven't fully processed this, and… I need to deal with my own issues with my parents first.”

  
“That's understandable,” Lilith sighed, standing up. “I'm sorry, Amity.”

  
Amity didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. She listened to Lilith walk away and stared out at the sea; the grey-blue waves rolled in, colorful scales slipping between waves. The sun was a half-circle as it set, casting a golden light over the boiling isles as another day closed out. Amity took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to keep herself calm. The day had taken its toll on the young witch.

  
She knew this would feel better eventually.

  
She just didn't want to wait that long.

  
*.*.*

  
That night, as everybody prepared for bed, Amity tip-toed back into the kitchen, peering around. Her eyes landed on Eda right as Eda spotted the young witch.

  
“You looking for something, Kid?”

  
“I wanted to ask you something after dinner, if you don't mind.” Eda sighed tiredly.

  
“The floor is yours.”

  
“I- okay, you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but… when we were training, Lilith mentioned the two of you performing a transformation spell that kept getting interrupted, and I asked her why you were doing that spell, and she kind of told me to ask you about it,” Eda froze in her tracks, pressing her lips together awkwardly.

  
“Okay, come sit down on the couch, Kid,” Eda’s tone turned slightly serious. “I'm guessing Lilith told you about your mother?”

  
“Yeah,” Amity sat down at the witch’s side, relaxing into the couch. She wouldn't deny it- she could feel how heavy her eyelids were, and she suppressed a yawn as she explained. “I… it didn't help as much as she thought it would.”

  
“Sounds about right,” Eda muttered before clearing her throat. “Well, to put it briefly- Lily and I were both born in a pair of bodies that didn't really suit either of us. It worked out about as well as my last relationship, and that one nearly killed me-” the two witches shared a laugh “-we… both kind of realized at the same time that we weren't happy with it. So, we tried to make ourselves look the way we wanted to, but every once in a while, somebody would slip up and it… it hurt. So we performed a transformation spell that, honest to titan, exhausted both of us and put us in so much pain, especially when that rat iridia kept trying to reverse it- told us we were ‘ruining our bodies’. But… it was worth it. We hadn't been happier.”

  
Amity was silent for a moment, but smiled. “Edric’s the same way, except mother and Father decided to deal with it privately.”

  
“Ah, so the old lady has changed a bit,” Eda mused. “...but not where it counts.”

  
“How did you get her to stop reversing it?”

  
“Simple; I chopped off her ponytail during lunch,” Eda chuckled. Amity giggled openly, almost able to perfectly picture the look on her mother’s face in that moment. “And then… I learned a bit about wild witches. Emperor Bell-bottoms destroyed a lot of stuff about them, but I could still dig up some stuff about their old cultures. Kind of adopted Xe/Xer pronouns along with she/her in their memory- and also to stick it to the coven system. To show them that they couldn't erase everything.”

  
Amity resisted the urge to say ‘I know’. Instead; “thank you for telling me this, Eda.”

  
“No problem, Kid,” Eda reached over a hand to comfortingly ruffle Amity’s hair. “Now get to bed. It's late and I'm a sleepy little owl.”

  
Amity stood up, but turned back to Eda for a moment. “Goodnight, Eda.”

  
“Goodnight, Amity.”


	9. The Intermission of Luz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intermission that briefly tells the tale of Luz.
> 
> A spacer as I still figure out where to direct this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong TW for homophobia and religion (Christianity).

It’s a day with stormy weather;  
Am I better?  
Better now?

  
Do I feel impatient  
From the Thunder   
Rolling up above?

  
Or is it from the nerves  
Plastic Hors d'oeuvres   
Served on shiny platters  
Cleaned of all dirty matters.

  
Do I believe what I see?  
Is it all just a dream?  
And would I wake up  
Or stay and never look behind me?

  
Eyes upon hands;  
Zirconium pants;  
Hearts in sync;  
Illegal to think;

  
True or False?

  
Well, the clouds can clear from the sky-  
Do I know where I go when I die?  
  
Am I better  
Or is my brain falsifying   
A doctrine I’d once been truthfully taught?

  
Do I believe that-  
Do I believe that-  
The thunder up above can strike a man down below?

  
Do the treats make me sick;  
Does that clock really tick;  
Is it the face of a girl?  
Is it haunting your world?

  
Science, Magic;  
Comedy, Tragic;  
Falsities;  
Truthful things;

  
True or False?

  
*.*.*

  
It was summer when Luz Noceda was born, the middle of August, hot and humid and in the midst of a storm. She was chaotic from the start; the minute she was placed into her mother’s arms, the hospital suffered one of its most poorly-timed power outages to date. The storm clouds were thick and cast a false void over the town, plaguing it with darkness. Many buildings had their power struck out that night as a result from the storm. The ghostly lights of emergency responders flashed like visiting stars and cast eerie glows of red, yellow, white, and blue through the windows of the hospital. 

  
That night, at approximately the same time Luz was born, one of Mrs. Noceda’s attending nurses would receive news of the death of her biological mother. She decidedly would not grieve this gift as she attended to Luz’s birth; she was glad the daughter of somebody so pleasant would be taking that place on earth, so to speak. Mrs. Noceda could raise a lovely young girl. Madame Eileen Boucharde, it seemed, couldn't raise a child at all.

  
Luz would spend years with her mother laughing at this story. Then she would spend years bittersweetly tucking it away in her mind in the same mental box as the words ‘Summer camp’. 

  
Luz remembers her first fight with her mother… just barely. Her “happy-go-lucky, make everybody happy, you can never be sad!” Attitude seemed to permeate her very subconscious. Her childhood was blurry, tracking time in her memory just short of impossible. Repressed memories separated herself from that child; she would never know that small child, or who they grew up to be. Luz Noceda was without childhood, new to the world. 

  
Her love for others came without question; she cared so quickly and deeply and she made this very known. She wondered what it was that drove others away from her, wondered what it was that made her so lonely. She concluded that it was a problem with herself that she’d just never figure out fully.

  
She did vividly remember one semi-traumatic incident, though; the last day of eighth grade. She was supposed to spend the night at her friend Rose’s house; Rose Carrie was a tall girl, the tallest in their class, and her cool older sister (who was in college!) had just dyed a pink streak in her hair. Her twin brother was cool too; he was on the soccer team, and Luz was sure that he was going to invite her to the school’s summer dance. Instead, he invited the only other (and far worse) pair of twins to the dance (who weren't actually related by blood, but they had enough in common that they made the “twins” thing their whole theme), Victor Triad and Victoria Bosche, which apparently everybody knew was going to happen, except for Luz. That dance was miserable for her.

  
Rose’s house was… a little strange. Her mother dressed simply, in an old pink sweater decorated with small wildflowers, loose blue jeans, and shoes that made Luz think of her mean old algebra teacher. She had red hair like the rest of the family (except for Rose’s cool older sister), and what Luz’s mother called a “Vaseline smile”. She smelled like lavender and candle wax and Abuela Noceda in the mornings when she came to visit for Mami’s birthday.

  
“Oh, you must be Luz!” Mama Carrie gushed. “Oh, little rosey here has told me so much about you. You are such a pretty girl!”

  
“Oh, thank you-”

  
“We’re gonna head upstairs, mama,” Rose cut off her friend, pulling Luz behind her and towards the staircase. As they passed the couch, Luz saw a brief glimpse of a man fast asleep; dressed simply in a baby-blue button down and black slacks, and shoes that reminded Luz of the people at chick-fil-a. He had red hair that was cut into what Luz’s Mom called a “church boy cut”, and he smelled like Abuela Noceda in the evenings when she came to visit for Mami’s birthday.

  
“Don't forget to change out of your dress, Rosey! We need to wash it tonight,” Rose’s outfit for the dance was… also simple, but it was one of the prettiest simple dresses that Luz had ever seen. It was pink, silky, and Rosey even made it herself! She originally bought red fabric, but Mama Carrie made her bleach it pink. She also made her wear this sky-blue hooded shawl over her shoulders- “for modesty” Rose had complained out on the gym dance floor, a cup of punch in her hand.

  
In Rose’s room, The two girls sat down next to each other on the bed, huddled close as Rose whispered in secret. “Now, Mama usually doesn't let me watch horror movies-” Rose’s eyes twinkled with mischief “-but I found one hidden in my sister’s room. It's called ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’.”

  
“Title seems pretty on-the-nose,” Luz chuckled. Rose hopped up and stuck the DVD into her old DVD player, and the film started up slowly.

  
Rose sat down close to Luz, their shoulders brushing. Rose’s skin was warm and freckled; she had a little patch of freckles on her forearm that formed the Lyre constellation. She stole some of her Mama’s makeup, and had a bright coral-pink, sparkly blush across her cheeks. Her lip gloss was tinted a slight red and shimmered gold, and her hair fell in bouncy, brushed out strawberry curls around her face and shoulders. She looked magical. Luz’s heartbeat was loud and swift in her chest, and she was so scared that Rose would hear it. She could barely pay attention to the movie, unlike Rose’s vice-grip of attention to it. Rose leaned towards Luz, and she was so sure she was about to kiss her.

  
“Don't tell my mama this,” Rose whispered, before nodding at the screen. “But I think both Brad and Janet are like, really pretty.”

  
Luz turned to the screen right as a music number started ramping up. A man in makeup and curly hair threw off his cape, showing off a costume that truly scandalized both girls. Luz found herself laughing, while Rose just looked on in frank disgust.

  
“But he’s a man.”

  
“And? He’s cool and funky. He is rocking that corset,” Luz giggled. “And if it makes you feel any better… I think Frank and the maid with big hair are both pretty.”

  
“I think that's magenta,” Rose scrunched up her nose. “She scares me.”

  
Luz took the moment to lay her head on Rose’s shoulder. She felt her face flush a slight pink, the same color as Rose’s lip gloss. She couldn't understand why Rose felt so secretive about saying both Brad and Janet were pretty; love was never questioned in the Noceda household. Luz was allowed to talk about liking the other kids at her school, no matter what their identity was. Her Aunt Antonia was allowed to bring her wife and partner over for family celebrations. Mami had even taught her briefly about stonewall, the ballroom that Antonia’s wife ran, and towns that weren't safe for her to stay in. Towns that were very safe, very artful, and lively.

  
Rose seemed to keep her voice in covered, hushed whispers. Neither of the girls were psychic, but they could both see Rose’s future laid out before her with varying degrees of sorrow. There were two paths;  
Rose would become her mother. She would keep her hair down and pin curled. She would smear Vaseline on her teeth for family photos. Her husband would be a rich young man with church boy hair and a plain, cut lawn. They’d go to church every day and they’d have two kids with golden eyes and strawberry hair and Rose would be miserable. She would meet a woman at church who looked like Janet Weiss- who would preach about her own teenage rebellion- and would yearn for another time.  
Or, the next few seconds would play out. Rose scooted closer to Luz, blue eyes glancing down at her only friend. Luz was… interesting. Rose could never tell her mom about Luz’s family. Rose could tell her mother about how shiny and wavy Luz’s black hair was. About how warm her eyes were. About how delightfully weird she was. About how contagious her laugh was. About how she really wanted to wear lip gloss, or even just cherry chapstick, because Luz did it and she didn't get into trouble. Rose thought about Luz’s stage makeup from when their drama class cast the two girls in their spring play; her eyes were lined with dark eyeliner and her freckles were covered up by cheap greasepaint.

  
“This movie isn't even scary-” Rose kissed Luz. Luz didn't know how to kiss somebody back but she tried, and it was awkward. It certainly didn't feel wrong. But it didn't feel right; what they were doing wasn't bad, they were just never meant to be for each other. They both pulled away from each other, and Rose scooted a couple inches away from Luz.

  
“My Mama can't know about this.”

  
“I- I know.”

  
“Your Mama shouldn't know about this.”

  
“I know,” Luz felt small at that moment. Shut out.

*.*.*

  
Luz Noceda was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 13, and that's really all there is to say on the matter.

  
*.*.*

  
Luz could also vividly remember the first Azura book she read; if she was being completely honest, they didn't interest her at first. She was going through her whole “Ghosts and Cryptids” phase, and had been reading a book series about a ghost hunter named June Spirit and her group of friends as a mysterious fellow in red glasses and a jacket covered in moth pins and patches lead them down a terrifying- and possibly romantic- adventure in the woods. And then promptly cried herself to sleep when the author- Andy Zim- had to cancel the rest of the series because the publishing company stole their money in order to fund the Harriette Pots series, whose author had repeatedly slandered Andy Zim and called June Spirit a “critical hit-piece on the masculinity of the paranormal genre.”

  
Luz then promptly read Azura out of spite.

  
Harriette Pots and Azura were both young girls introduced to a new, magical world, where they were destined to do great things and were both born with mystical titles. They both had creepy teachers, except the author of Harriette Pots tried to excuse how creepy Mr. Serpentine was. Azura’s creepy teacher, Perseus, just got fed to wolves, and when he came back as a ghost, he got turned to stone by the heroic and brave Medusa.

  
But Azura was so much more fun than Luz expected! It was colorful, and it didn't take itself too seriously. It was a goofy book series about witches and it thrived on that! Oh, and Luz could rant for hours about the visual motifs and themes of recovery and found family- it was so rich! And the characters were unafraid and accepting; in the world of Azura, you could just exist as who you are. You didn't have to be afraid or outcast. 

  
And when the words “summer camp” no longer became a fun suggestion to Luz… she held even more onto Azura. The powerful, kind Witch who even looked like Luz. Azura, who was celebrated for thinking outside the box.

  
Luz almost felt guilty. She didn't know what it was that tired her mother out so much. She thought back to her childhood; it was some issue with herself that she would never be able to identify or fix. It internalized itself in Luz in a way that hurt, hurt in some way that she couldn't remember.

  
*.*.*

  
The Boiling Isles, decidedly, were not like the world of Azura. And that was perfectly okay. They were strange and unusual! They were off putting! And Luz loved it! She was learning magic with an outlaw witch, who wouldn't want to do that? She had a little demon friend and lived in a living house that… admittedly was kind of creepy, and not always in the good way. And she had the best Mentor ever! Even if Eda was… admittedly, not the greatest at first, she took care of Luz and tried her best. And that was all Luz could ask for.

  
And then she met Willow! Willow was sweet and strong, like when her Mami, Aunt Antonia, and Abuela all attempted to make Tres Leches cake (sweet! But also very strong, like a sugary punch to the teeth). Willow was so talented, and it was so easy for Luz to love her like a friend. And Willow loved her just as much back; she was the best friend Luz had had in years. And then Willow introduced her to Gus, the little dude who was… admittedly, kind of a mess! But who in their group of friends wasn't! He was fun and childish and energetic like Luz was, but could be pragmatic and logical like Willow. They were the two best friends Luz could ever ask for. 

  
Sometimes, it almost felt like she didn't deserve them.

  
And then Amity Blight came along. A star student, the poster-child for successful but deeply unhappy witches. Logically, Luz should have despised her; but if Azura taught her anything, it was to at least understand her enemies. Maybe befriend them. And there was something that drew her to Amity; something magnetic about her.

  
She was Impossible. She was spiteful and mean and temperamental and Luz loved it. Some part of her loved to spite Amity- to knock her down a peg. And then that need for spite turned to pity once they’d dueled; actually… it had turned to pity a little bit after that. Once she’d referred to the Emperor’s Coven as her “future”. Not her dream, but her future. Luz couldn't place what that set off in her. It was just one word.

  
Then, she couldn't help but notice Amity. Her soft-looking green hair, her long eyelashes, her smooth skin. Her laugh, the way her diamond-sharp edges seemed to soften around Luz, the way she flushed red in anger. Luz wanted so desperately to be her friend; and she really thought Amity could use a friend.

  
And when they were friends, finally, Luz felt ecstatic. She got to see a side of Amity that made her happy; Amity didn't have much to hide around Luz. She would excitedly tap her hands on her knees whenever she was really happy, and while she would always hesitate with an uneasy mask beforehand, Amity was much less afraid to show that she was hurt when Luz was around. She was so happy to see Amity grow and learn, and this platonic love began to turn into something else. 

  
Luz didn't know when this happened. She couldn't pinpoint a time in her life that she really began to admire Amity in a way that might not be platonic; she couldn't pinpoint the exact day that Amity’s constant flushing and stammering really began to reflect itself in Luz. But… It was really the first time she was scared to have a crush. Amity was one of her first best friends, she couldn't ruin this, and she couldn't scare Amity away again. And on Halloween Night, when Luz found that poem… she didn't want to believe it. Eda had to physically sit her down and talk to her about it for it to finally click with her.

  
*.*.*

  
Luz sat on her “bed”, conflicted. The portal back to the human realm was destroyed, and it was true that she’d never been happier; but she also wanted to see her Mami again, even if it was just once. Luz missed her so, so much; She didn't quite know if she could call it home, but… it was a place she missed and loved. 

  
“Hey, are you okay? You seem kinda off tonight,” Amity intertwined a hand with Luz’s, catching the girl’s attention.

  
“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Luz paused. “I just… I don't know how I'm supposed to get back to my realm.” Amity sighed, scooting closer.

  
“I’m sorry, Luz,” Amity gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I… I really can't offer much help aside from listening.”

  
“That’s alright,” Luz smiled. “We’ll figure it out eventually; and hey! If I do get stuck here, I don't mind getting stuck here with all of you.” Amity chuckled at this, before pulling Luz into a tight hug. The two wrapped their arms around each other, deciding to stay like this for a few moments longer.

  
“Repeat after me; We can get through this together,” Amity said. Luz pulled away, gasping slightly at Amity’s use of the phrase.

  
“We can get through this together!”

  
The Azura Book Club, reduced to two members and moved to the comfort of Luz’s room, took up the rest of their evening until late dinner. They’d both gotten to their favorite part of book five; Azura’s defeat of King Macroura, surrounded by her closest friends. They talked excitedly about the scene itself, the small details in the art, the characters; Amity would flap her hands excitedly, Luz would drum her hands on the book cover or Amity’s knees when she would realize something, and they’d affectionately feed into each other’s excitement.

  
They both had a lot to get through; and they were going to do this together.


	10. I Wail Because...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning a particularly helpful spell, Amity proceeds to have a breakdown in the woods and comes to a few realizations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter that I mainly made to vent.
> 
> I don't want to go into detail, but thing are happening in my personal life that really made me spiral today, hence the drop in quality in this chapter.
> 
> TW for brief mentions of self harm.

“I wail  
It's nowhere near a pleasant noise”

Amity sprinted out into the woods on an unpleasant night as anger carried her footsteps further in; truly, she could just do this just outside the clearing, but she needed privacy for this.

“I wail  
I scream and I cry and I plead”

She’d been taught the spell by Lilith to make up for their last interaction. A bubble of space where Amity could shout and scream and cry all she wanted, and nobody would hear her. Nobody.

“I wailed  
Because you made me”

Iridia Blight was not a mother who raised her children with the touch of a velvet glove; she preferred to slap them with it. It was a smack both literal (whenever Amity would whimper, or get a less than passing grade, or sputter, or excitedly flap her hands the infuriating way that she did) and metaphorical (the bottle of green hair dye). She did not raise her children, she crafted them. She made them out of carved skin and scars and blood and exposed bone.

“I wailed  
Because you made me”

Mr. Blight was a rough man who cast a judgeful eye on his youngest offspring. The youngest child himself, he saw himself in Amity. And he hated it. He saw his weaknesses in Amity. And he sought to make her strong.

“I now wail  
So you can look at the things you’ve done”

The spell cast around her in a gossamer blue bubble, Amity freezes. She took a deep breath and pushed her fingers into her hair… and ripped them away. A small chunk of mint green hair was yanked out with it, and Amity was so nearly horrified with herself that she felt sick. The pain in her scalp shot to her stomach and made her want to retch on the spot- How could she do this to herself?

“I am not strong for you  
I am strong for myself  
I’m strong for the version of myself you hated”

Amity dropped the hair and sat down, holding herself tightly. She wondered, briefly, if this was even a good idea. Was she expressing her anger or isolating herself? Did ripping out her own hair count as self harm? Was she considering self harm?

“I wail  
For all that I am”

Where she intended to scream, to show her fury in such a manner that her abusers would hate, Amity simply weeped. Tears began to roll down her face with increasing speed, her small body shaking, her sobs protected inside the spell bubble. She was a child; she didn't deserve to go through this. She was a child. 

“I wail  
So that you will never know peace.”

When Amity was finally able to bring herself to scream, she stood up on shaky knees. She opened her mouth… and couldn't. She couldn't make the sound come from her throat at all. Fear overtook her despite the fact that nobody would hear-

Amity remembered having dreams where she couldn't scream. She’d throw a fit, she’d cry, she’d sob so grossly. She wanted to scream and yell and throw a tantrum in these dreams but when her voice got too loud… it was all reduced to whispers. A breathy voice that couldn't do anything. And it was torturous; something about having a mouth but not being able to scream was such a torturous thing for the young witch to experience. She could kick and have tears roll down her face all she wanted, but in these dreams, she couldn't make a sound. Not one that really counted.

So Amity pressed her lips together and screamed that way. She screamed until her throat was raw and scraped. She screamed until it hurt. Anger rose in her like the Mercury rising before a storm, and she kicked the butterfly-wing bubble around her. Her foot just bounced off it. She screamed again, crying out questions, pleas, profanity. She cried out to an unkind world because how could somebody do this to a child?

And in that moment, Amity made her choice; she would get through this. She was doing her best and that's what counted, that's what would get her through this. She could pick herself back up again. She could heal. She would succeed and she would never let her parents hurt her or try to steal that success ever again.

And she wouldn't have to do it alone. There was a muffled pair of voices outside of the bubble; Eda and Luz. They both sounded worried as they called out Amity’s name and- motherfucker, did it have to be Hooty to be the one to find Amity? The Bird Tube bounced its painless, vacant face against the bubble, its infernal voice just barely muffled. Amity sighed and dissipated the barrier with a wave of her hand

“What were you thinking, Kid?” Eda’s voice sounded upset, but… she didn't sound angry. More exasperated and worried, which made Amity feel… soft, almost? She couldn't really describe it. “You could have gotten really hurt out there.”

“I-I’m sorry, Eda,” Amity was almost surprised at how scratchy her voice was. “I was just… having a moment.” Amity blinked, surprised at how heavy her stinging eyelids felt after that breakdown. Her chest felt oddly hollow, like everything in it had been replaced with water, like her tears had tried to drown her. She felt exhausted.

“Don't apologize, kid,” Eda seemed to soften. “Just tell us next time if you need a minute; and don't go running into the woods! I don't even know what’s out here sometimes.” Amity smiled and pressed her eyes shut as if to laugh, but she found herself feeling too tired.

“We should get back to the house, then,” Luz suggested. “If the woods really are that spooky.”

“Yeah,” Amity quietly agreed. Eda tossed an arm around Amity’s shoulders, as did Luz, and the three began their walk back to The Owl House.

*.*.*

Tossing cold water against her face, Amity washed the dry tears from her skin as she got ready for bed. She looked up at the Mirror, suppressing a groan; her eyes were red from crying, and holy titan, how long had those dark circles been there? She almost leaned forward towards the mirror to pick at her appearance, before stopping herself.

She wasn't okay; she didn't have to look like she was okay.

And who knows, Maybe this was a part of healing; realizing Little Miss Perfect didn't always have to be perfect. She was allowed to have her down days, and she was allowed to not always be at the top of her game.

She set her alarm to ring about 10 minutes early, and she was going to bed later than usual, purely for one reason; she wanted to get away with cuddling up to Luz. 

“There’s my sleepy little witch,” Luz yawned. Giggling softly, Amity slipped under the covers of her sleeping bag, arms and legs brushing Luz’s. She didn't think she’d ever get used to being so close to Luz; it wasn't a bad feeling in the slightest, just… strange. Nervous, but in a way that didn't keep her from sleeping. She could just feel a Blush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks and pointed ears, feeling her heartbeat pick up just the slightest.

“Goodnight, Luz,” Amity tucked her face into Luz’s collarbones, instinctively reaching up to tangle a hand in with her girlfriend’s hair. Luz’s arms were comfortably tight around her as they both drifted off to sleep.

“Goodnight, Amity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might do a double chapter tomorrow? Who knows. I know tomorrow isn't gonna be great either, so we'll see how well that goes.
> 
> I kind of like intertwining the poem with the story like I did today. Might not do it in the future, but it was a nice addition.


	11. Rumors & Gossip - Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another two-act chapter, named after my favorite song!
> 
> Amity learns an important lesson when trying to get through to one of her enemies. Some enemies are not meant to be befriended or forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I apologize for the dip in quality. Things have gotten tough lately and I've found myself having trouble with this story.

We both look for the  
Blood in the water  
Metallic, red, and raw.

  
I like to think I lost the taste  
But then i see you  
And the bile that rises in my throat  
Is metallic and salty.

  
*.*.*

  
Amity can fully understand why she forgave and befriended Luz; she knew they both wanted to change. Luz hadn't caused any lasting damage; she had the best intentions, and she wasn't feigning kindness. She was more genuine to Amity’s face than anybody had been in years. Amity almost thought it was impossible for somebody to not love Luz Noceda. 

  
The morning was… a little less than simple. Amity’s eyes were ringed with dark circles and tinged red from the evening before. It was warm, but also uncontrollably windy. Amity’s hair whipped into her face annoyingly, and a particularly small student- a tiny fella with purple hair and little bat wings- blew by in the breeze, shrieking as he went. Typical Hexide Morning.

  
And carried on the wind, along with wayward witches, were slight whispers. They buzzed in Amity’s ears like flies or pixies- gross little things that whispered gossip and prophecies to gullible kids. A small group of eye-rollingly familiar teens bowed their heads and whispered as Amity approached the school. Amity took a few deep breaths, tapping her fingers against her book bag to calm down. She could do this- she didn't have to acknowledge them.

  
“Hey Amity!” A mocking voice squawked. The green-haired witch groaned, turning to face the three-eyed fiend approaching her. “You look pretty lonely today, where’s the group?”

  
“That’s none of your business, Boscha,” Amity growled. “I’m not ratting out my friends- especially when you punched one in the face!”

  
“Come on, Amity,” Boscha dragged out her words, her voice gut-wrenchingly and surprisingly sweet. “I’m making a change for the better. Can we just talk for a second?”  
“I… Somehow, I don't believe you.”

  
“Come on, what’s your damage, Amity?” Boscha scoffed. “It's not like you're running late to class or anything.”

  
“I don't have to have an excuse to avoid you,” Amity shrugged. She turned away, only for Boscha to grab her sleeve and hold her back.

  
“Amity, Please,” Boscha’s tone dropped. “I’m worried about you. Just one conversation? Please?” Amity felt as though she’d been punched in the gut, or like somebody had sent a spell straight at her knees. It was… genuine concern. Coming from Boscha. And it made Amity feel genuinely sick.

  
“Fine,” Amity turned to face the pink-haired demon girl. Boscha smiled, pulling Amity along with her towards their group. It was smaller than usual; the gross-smelling dude with the beanie was gone, along with a few other usual. Skara smiled at Amity, the expression sickeningly sweet.

  
“Heeyyyy, Amity,” Skara’s voice was gently, warmly condescending. “How are ya doing?”

  
“I'm… I'm doing fine,” Amity’s skin crawled as she peered at the other students around her, trying not to be obvious about the fact that they were talking about her.

  
“Good!” Skara awkwardly patted Amity’s shoulder. “Oh, you’re so sweet!”

  
“...thank you?” Amity took a step back, but Boscha’s hand held firm on her arm. 

  
“So, like, Amity,” Boscha’s expression looked more concerningly fascinated rather than that of a concerned friend. “How’s Ed and Em?”

  
“They’re doing fine, I guess,” Amity shrugged. “I don’t get to see them all that often, so…”

  
“Oh my titan, I totally know how that feels,” Skara’s voice leaned a little too close to that of somebody talking to a young child or a pet. “My mom and dad totally freaked when they found out I was dating somebody on the Grudgby team, they took away my scroll for like, a month.”

  
“That's not-”

  
“It's gonna be okay, Ami,” Boscha gushed. “My parents would totally like, let you stay with us. We could really help you get better! And you’d have all your friends back again.”

  
“First of all; I’m already staying somewhere else,” Amity finally ripped away from Boscha’s grasp. “Secondly; I'm doing just fine without you guys.” Amity expected anger, she expected them to snap at and threaten her. But what she received instead was just… even more infuriating.

  
“Oh my titan, you are so funny!” Both Boscha and Skara erupted into giggles. “You're like a little puppy.” 

  
“I’m being serious, you two,” it was like Amity’s dreams all over again; no matter how much she wanted to, it was like she couldn't say anything.

  
“Exactly!” Skara talked down to Amity. “Aww, who's a good girl, Amity? Who is it? You are!” 

  
Amity sputtered, at a complete and utter loss for words. She took another step back, before turning and speed-walking off towards class. She felt uncomfortably vulnerable, like everybody around her was just babying her. Coddling her. She didn't want this, she didn't want any of this to happen, she just wanted to feel… not normal, but better. Her chest felt tight, both angry and sorrowful and scared all at once, and tears almost began to well up in her eyes.

  
Amity thought she’d grown used to the whispering; the little ripples of awe that carried out from merely being a Blight. But she wasn't a Blight anymore. And the whispers stung and scraped her skin like pebbles thrown at her.

  
*.*.*

  
Lunch was even worse.

  
It had started off just fine; she was reminded of what it was like to have people who truly cared for her without them coddling her. Luz greeted her with a gentle smile and a reassuring squeeze of Amity’s hand, before regaining her constant boundless energy. It was just enough to check in with her, to make Amity feel supported. Willow even talked to her a bit more than the usual mutual, respectful silence; and it made Amity feel beyond ecstatic. Gus even threw a darker joke about Amity’s recent struggles, but… he asked if he could beforehand, and even then, Amity wasn't the punchline. Her parents were. And it genuinely made her laugh, it made her laugh harder than she had in a long time. It was as great as the day could be… until Amity felt a heavy literal weight added to the metaphorical one already on her shoulders.

  
“Amity, don't you want to sit with us during lunch?” Boscha asked. Amity’s head snapped up to look Boscha directly in two-thirds of her eyes.

  
“I’d rather jump into a pot of abomination goop and never come out.”

  
“Aww, you're so grumpy,” Boscha infuriatingly ruffled Amity’s hair, messing up her ponytail in the process. “It's so cute! And here; you’ll like this nail polish I picked out for you, I really think it’ll cheer you up.” And with that, Boscha and her cloud of flowery, sensory-hell perfume strolled off.

  
“What was that?” Luz asked. Amity buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. 

  
“Boscha’s been acting like that all day, and it's quite possibly even worse than when she was collectively bullying all of us,” Amity explained dryly. “It's.. patronizing.”

  
“Baabbe,” Luz dragged out the word. “Do you want to throw her in an abomination bucket together?”

  
Amity’s head immediately snapped up. “Are you joking or being completely serious?”

  
“Only joking!”

  
“Oh!” Amity then chuckled somewhat at said joke. “Oh, it's a funny thought, but… that’s just sinking down to her level- oh!” Amity gasped, suddenly being struck with an idea- “I’m gonna try to actually explain to her why it sucks. What's the worst she can do, listen to ‘Destroy Wizards’ albums on repeat? Call me names?”

  
Luz held up a hand for a high five. “Good luck!”

  
“Thanks! I’m gonna need it.”

  
*.*.*

  
Boscha Tevington was the baseline for teenage hierarchy and morality, in her triad of eyes. She had the glossy, pink hair, the smooth bubblegum skin, the perfectly manicured nail beds, the holographic black dragon leather Hadés boots. She was a Tevington, for crying out loud! The Tevington Beauty and Lifestyle Potion Co. was a brand not to be messed with, and a family not to be crossed. They were cut-throat and didn't spare any expense when it came to crushing the competition, and Boscha would be no deviation from that.

  
Amity should want to be her friend; she should want to grovel at Boscha’s feet for being so insolent and such a puddle of weakness. Oh, but then her parents had to make some plea for help on the crystal ball news, saying their daughter had run off with some group of criminals that were corrupting her into being a wild witch. In their words, Amity was mentally incompetent and needed a caretaker at all times, and these scoundrels had manipulated her into thinking she could be fully autonomous. That's when the pity kicked in for Boscha; Amity was like a little minty-haired doll who could talk if you pulled the right string. She could do things, but she wasn't actually capable of understanding them. Oh, Boscha blushed to imagine it; she’d inherit the company one day, and Amity would be her top model, strutting and striking poses like some statue of a nymph. She would be the cute, endearing face of the company, in pearly highlighter and peach lip gloss and flaming eyelashes. And who could ever say no to that? Her social unawareness was beyond adorable, Boscha would kill to have people unapologetically praise her like that. All she needed was a little grooming and styling to perfectly fit the spot.

  
“So, what’d you want to talk about?” Boscha looked down at her nails; dark burgundy with sparkles of red, like some dark, cut Ruby. Perfect acrylics, done with only the finest of Dantean Cone Snail shells collected from the Stygian sea, done by her usual nail technician. Oh, Titan, what was her name? Something that started with a C, certainly. She said something about some wild witches inventing the acrylic technique, but Boscha didn't want to hear it, so naturally she ordered the technician to shut her trap. “If it’s about that Luz girl, I think it's a little weird but she’s like, totally great for you. You two just balance each other out, y’know? Ooh, you’d also look totally cute with that Willow girl- you two have a great kinda contrast. Not gonna lie, I kinda thought she was dating that human chick at first- they’d be a little too much together, don't you think?”

  
“I want you to stop treating me like a pet, Boscha,” Amity snapped. “Go back to bullying me, ignore me, do whatever you want- just… quit doing whatever you're doing now.”

  
“Look, if it's about the nail polish, I can return it,” Boscha suggested. “But I, telling you- Orange is totally your color! Ooh, especially if you were to tint your hair a little more blue? Perfect.”

  
“That's not what I'm talking about, Boscha,” Amity wheezed. “You’re doing it now! You don't listen to me and then you treat me like I'm your best friend, despite literally everything you’ve done recently.”

  
“I'm just looking out for you,” Boscha rolled her eyes. “I know you're struggling, especially with that little head of yours, but don't worry! The Tevingtons are gonna fix you right up-”

  
“I don't need to be fixed!” Amity leaned forward. “Especially not by your family.”

  
“I don't understand,” Boscha tilted her head. “Your… handicap only holds you back. I don't see a reason to not fix it.”

  
“It doesn't hold me back,” Amity urged. “And I don't want your help.”

  
“You need to learn to accept help, though,” Boscha shrugged. 

  
“I can accept help,” Amity spoke slowly. “From people who actually want to help me. Not people like you who only do it to look good in front of others.”

  
Something about that set off Boscha. She opened her mouth, sputtering as she searched for the words. She was seeing red- she could hardly believe how insolent Amity was acting. Much like Amity, she was presented with a choice-

  
She could breathe and calm herself down. She could take this conversation seriously and listen for once; but where would that leave her? Boscha held this school’s student body with a well-manicured iron fist that was wound so tightly that she couldn't possibly even consider lightening it. She held this pedestal by whipping the crowd around it into shape, and she didn't know what they would do to her if she dropped that whip.

  
She gripped that metaphorical whip tightly in her hands, singling out a member at the very edge of the crowd who seemed to be walking away. Boscha grabbed the collar of Amity’s cowl, rushing to her feet and pulling the other witch behind her. Amity whimpered and struggled and pushed Boscha away to no avail, and the student body and staff seemed too shocked to intervene. It was a Greek tragedy; the cruel acts being perceived by a helpless audience and a taunting chorus of bystanders. The lunchroom murmured with surprise, but… the majority of students didn't seem to care, and their lack of interest only fed Boscha’s fire, a fire that burned and destroyed and sent sparks in the direction of anything that came near it. It was flashy and blinding and beyond cruel.

  
Looking down upon her like the same small dog Skara had once compared her to… Boscha swung her leg back and delivered two sharp kicks to Amity. One directly to the center of her face, the pointed toe of a designer black boot smashing in an enviously perfect nose and lips. The other to her chest, knocking the wind out of Amity.

  
Boscha left the lunch room, having made her choice.

  
She could only learn and grow if she chose to- and she obviously chose not.


	12. Lies & Accusations - Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amity takes another step towards healing, and Skara makes a choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied child abuse/very mildly implied abusive marriage.

It's early spring   
And I watch the flowers bloom.  
I think they're so pretty  
And I want to be like them.

  
But I don't know if I could put in the work.

  
I see a sticky-fingered child   
ripping them up from the ground.

  
And I don't know if I could risk that.

  
*.*.*

  
Amity wanted to tell Luz that she really didn't need to be carried to the healer’s office, but the blood spilling from her nose and mouth were making it more than a little bit of a challenge to speak properly. She pinched her nose shut, leaning her head back and using her other free hand to stop the flow of blood coming from somewhere around her lips and mouth. Almost her entire face throbbed with pain, and she was still wheezing and choking as she regained her breath. 

  
And she must have passed out at some point, because the healer’s office was definitely nowhere near the lunchroom and there was absolutely no way she was already sitting in one of the creaky cots this fast. Her lips and chin felt uncomfortably sticky, and she could faintly taste blood. Pain throbbed in her nose and mouth, and she could just barely feel tears welling in her eyes. She didn't know what she said to set off Boscha (though, if she was being honest, her brain was more than a little frazzled). She could at least breathe easier now- she seemed to have regained most of her breath. 

  
“Oh, you came in here at the wrong time, girly,” the healer patted Amity on the head, earning an annoyed huff from the witch. “We have the senior healing students taking over the duties for today.”

  
“Can't you-”

  
“Nope!” The healer threw all four of her hands up. “I'm off today.”

  
“Shouldn't you be around for emergencies?” Gus asked, but the healer was already out the door. Amity heard her friends sigh, before hearing the creaking of what she assumed to be them taking their seats. Daring to open her eyes, she saw the curtained-away square of the healer’s office they were currently in, along with a new face peaking in. She was a tall student, and Amity nearly mistook her for Viney for a second- before seeing her Hazelnut brown hair with golden streaks. She briefly grieved the fact that it wasn't, purely because now she couldn't use the fact that it was Viney to mock her sister.

  
“Hey- Amity, right?” The healing student asked. Amity nodded painfully. “Good, good… well, I'm Amalthea, I’ll be the senior healing student attending to you today,” her smile was warm and her voice was gentle and slow. “Mind running me through what happened?”

  
Amity attempted to gesture that she couldn't exactly talk right now, and luckily, Willow spoke up. “Boscha kicked her pretty hard in the face,” The healing student hissed before kneeling down in front of Amity.

  
“Yeah, looks like it,” Amalthea reached a hand up only for Amity to flinch away. “I just need to see if your nose is broken, can you please move your hands?” Amity’s shaky hands drifted down to her lap, and she cringed as she saw the half-dried blood caked on them. Amalthea opened her mouth to say something, but then the end of lunch bell screamed.

  
“We have to head to class,” Willow stood up swiftly. “We’ll cya later Amity! Get well soon!” Gus and Luz followed behind her, Luz briefly pausing to flash Amity a wink and some finger-guns.

  
“Aw, you two are so cute,” Amalthea said offhandedly. “You were grom queen, right?” Amity nodded gently as a towel wiped away the blood from her face. She felt… childish, almost? But not in a bad way. It was almost comforting. Amity had never really been healed like this; whenever she’d get injured on the grudgby field, they were almost always temporary injuries with quick fixes. And at home…

  
*.*.*

  
Amity suppressed a shudder. It was a faint memory, more or less something she knew happened more than she remembered it clearly. It was a hot summer evening, the hottest and longest day of the year; a family dinner party had just ended, and Amity sat down on her pastel pink skirts with a large slice of Fate-rmelon in her hands. It was sweet (always a sign of good fortune) and pink, with clear juice dripping down a young Amity’s chin. It was said that the melon’s seeds would reveal one’s fate, but nobody could read the Language of the seeds anymore. Amity hoped her’s was something good.

  
“Amity!” The little witch froze as she heard her uncle. “You’ve become such a lovely young lady.”

  
“Hi uncle,” she couldn't remember his name, but she could remember the rail-thin grackle that hung around him like the stench of the rotted-wood ale he drank. She could remember her Aunt Delia, his wife- she remembered seeing Delia once without her Uncle. She had been dressed in shades of blue and silver, in swaths of rippling velour and dripping in Ruby adornments. She looked nice, comfortable, like some distant yet caring relative. She almost seemed motherly. It was all such a contrast to the shades she wore around her uncle; clashing, form fitting bird-of-purgatory colors and flare and gaudiness. Her neck was constantly flexed, though that was hidden beneath tight gold choker necklaces. Behind her red lipstick, even tiny little minuscule Amity could see how pulled-taut her forced smile was.

  
“Are you having fun?”

  
“Yes,” Amity looked down at her melon slice. “Can I be alone?”

  
“Why would you want to be alone?” Amity didn't know how to tell her uncle that he scared her. Uncle Blight was an unspoken secret amongst the family.

  
“Is something wrong?” Amity’s father tried to sound concerned, though it sounded like less of a question and more of a silent “everything must be alright, or else”.

  
“Nothing more than your petulant daughter,” something flashed in Amity’s father’s eyes. First, at his brother; the briefest, faintest spark of horror. And then at Amity, the much more noticeable spark of annoyance and disappointment.

  
Amity was surprised her father’s boot didn't leave a scar on her fragile little face.

  
*.*.*

  
“Hey, Amity,” Amalthea shook her shoulder, and Amity was back to reality… already? She nearly didn't respond out of confusion. She’d never come out of a flashback that fast. “Are you okay? You kinda started shaking for a minute there.”

  
“Yeah,” Amity sighed. “I just… got reminded of something.” Amalthea smiled bittersweetly.

  
“I know how that feels,” Amalthea swiveled her hand, a glittering green magic circle manifesting around Amity’s nose and chin. “I don't wanna intrude or assume anything, but… you're gonna get through this.”

  
“I know,” Amity said. “I just… it didn't bother me as much as it usually did. I’m… scared, I guess? That I'm getting used to it. That It’s going to make me a bad person.” Amity heard her voice grow less nasally as the spell worked its magic. Amalthea set her hands gently on Amity’s knees.

  
“Now, I don't know too much about what's going on, but that's normal,” Amalthea’s words were comforting, quiet. “You sound like you went through a lot in a little bit of time. Sometimes, you grow a little bit numb to that, or you deal with some really shitty intrusive thoughts because of it. You're not a bad person, your brain is just trying to make sense of things; you're gonna get past this. You're gonna be alright.”

  
Amity could only nod. She really, really wanted to believe it. And she did.

  
*.*.*

  
“Ugh, I just need something on her,” Skara could practically hear the popping and crackling of fire in Boscha’s whisper. “She acts like she’s so perfect, it's fucking infuriating.”

  
“Weren't you two friends for like, 8 years?” Skara whispered back, eyes peering around to make sure the teacher couldn't see them. “I feel like you’d have some kind of dirt on her by then.”

  
“Nope,” Boscha grumbled. “Nothing new, nothing relevant. Nothing.”

  
“You could just forget about her,” Skara shrugged. “People will get tired of the human thing fast, her social acceptance is just a phase.”

  
“No,” Boscha whispered a little too loudly. “I can't just forget about her; do you know what she meant to me? Can your tiny brain even comprehend how much she fucking hurt me?” Skara sank into her seat, shying silently away from Boscha. She felt small. Silenced. Like she was talking to a brick wall.

  
Skara thought briefly about Amity. Amity was… kind of awkward and tense the last month that she’d known her. She began to realize that she never really knew Amity, truly- they were just friends because of Boscha. Amity was a diamond-sharp edge, the more subtle, sneaky, cutting edge rather than the brute, blunt force trauma that was Boscha. She was performative; whenever they had sleepovers, Skara got rare glimpses into the soft, squishy center of Amity.

  
“Miss Tevington, Miss Yvette,” the teacher snapped. “Would you like to share whatever you're whispering about to the class?”

  
“No sir,” the two girls dead-panned in unison.  
  
“Well, would one of you do me the favor of taking these documents to the principal’s office? Since you seem to be in such a talkative mood,” the teacher growled. Skara sighed, standing up because she knew Boscha wouldn't (and would probably make her do it anyway). Taking the heavy file folder from the teacher with a slight grumble, Skara exited the classroom.

  
The Hexide hallways were silent, surprisingly. No students skipped class, at least to Skara’s knowledge. The click of her heels filled the halls, echoing off the walls. It seemed to be the only sound, until…

  
“So! How are you feeling?” ...the human?

  
“I uhh… I think I'm doing alright,” was that Amity? “Today’s been a lot.”

  
“That's understandable!” Yeah, that was definitely Luz. “You wanna talk about it later?” The two came into view, and Skara sprang to hide behind a set of lockers.

  
“Yeah! Maybe before the book club?” This school had a book club? Since when?

  
“Of course!” Luz smiled. “I gotta get to class, I’ll cya later Amity!”

  
“Cya!” Amity leaned up to kiss Luz’s cheek, causing the human girl to blush. “You look really nice today, by the way.”

  
“So do you,” Luz snapped her fingers, flashing a pair of finger-guns at Amity. The two then parted ways, and Skara decided to finally keep walking down the hall like nothing happened. 

  
...they were kind of a cute couple.

  
Skara began to wonder what it was that set Boscha off so much. She could understand the shocking remarks, the cutting off ties, the grudgby game. But Luz… what had Luz done? And what about their relationship irritated Boscha so much? They weren't that affectionate in public, they weren't obnoxious about it, and they seemed healthy. Happy. Skara almost envied them- her last ex boyfriend was… kind of a creep. And the Selkie Witch in her last class of the day was sooooo pretty, with their cool brown skin, their thick black hair, their strong features, those black eyes that Skara could just get lost in… but they never seemed to notice Skara. In fact, Skara was painfully aware of how they flirted with the witch that sat next to them in class. And they were probably a better match for each other.

  
Skara set a hand on the doorknob to the principal’s office, before pausing. Inside there was a scruffy man sitting silent in a chair, as a green-haired woman- maybe his wife?- leaned up out of her seat, pleading with Principal bump. Skara hid once again, pressing her ear to the cold glass door.

  
“You are going to give me the details on her whereabouts, immediately,” the woman-

  
oh shit, that might just be Iridia Blight.

  
“She’s mentally disabled, she can't handle this situation on her own,” okay yep, definitely Iridia Blight.

  
“Amity’s reports have all come back showing excellent grades,” Principal Bump shrugged. “She’s been mentally competent enough to excel in this school. I don't see why it's suddenly an issue now.”

  
“She’s being manipulated!” Iridia shrieked. “She’s being convinced that we were bad parents, she’s having these… these false memories put in her head by predators. We would never hurt our sweet little Amity!”

  
“Mr. Bump,” Mr. Blight finally spoke up. “If I may- Amity has been our top priority from day one. She means the world to us, and the people around us have twisted the truth to make us look like Ill-fitting parents. I will admit, taking Amity out of school was a… temperamental decision after her last meltdown. But I can assure you, we had every good intention at heart.”

  
“As much as I'd love to help,” the principal spoke flatly. “She’s no longer under your guardianship, so there’s really nothing I can do.”

  
“May we at least talk to her?”

  
“I’m afraid I will be unable to arrange that,” Principal Bump absentmindedly began to shuffle papers around in his hands. “I have specific instructions from-”

  
“Nonsense,” Iridia Blight rushed to the door and out into the hall. “Let me talk to my vapid excuse for a daughter-”

  
In a split second, Skara was faced with a choice. She could stay hiding, and give this all back to Boscha. Feed it to her like grapes on a vine. Boscha would have the leg up she needed, and… would she even thank Skara? The two of them had done this plenty of times, and Skara was beginning to see through it. She never got to reap the rewards of all the work that left her feeling grimy and sneaky. And besides… Amity could possibly be in much more danger than having her social life ruined.

  
That, or Skara could… do something. She could be better than Boscha. The conversation from earlier rolled in her mind like a brewing storm, winds whipping up anger in Skara. She clutched her file folder angrily, remembering the feeling. Of screaming, and Boscha never hearing. Of talking to a brick wall. Of being a stepping stone beneath Boscha’s foot, just like the high-heeled foot Skara suddenly threw herself under.

  
“Owie!” Skara whined as she was sent to the floor, the papers in her arms spilling everywhere. Iridia Blight was sent flying into the lockers, shrieking out profanity as she slid to the floor. Her husband went to help her, but slid and fell directly on his ass as he stepped on the fallen papers.

  
“What is this mess?” Principal Bump scowled.

  
“M-Mr. Principal,” Skara played up the sniffling student act like one of the Theatre track students trying to grab for Mr. Queen’s attention. “I w-was just trying t-to deliver these documents to y-you, and she p-pushed me out- out of the way.” Principal Bump looked up at Amity’s parents grimly.

  
“I expect you two to leave the premises immediately, lest I have to call security.”

  
*.*.*

  
“I heard Amity’s parents stopped by the school,” Boscha reached an arm around Skara’s shoulders, tugging her close. “What do you think they were doing here? I thought they disowned that whiny bitch.”

  
“It was nothing, Boscha,” Skara made her choice once again. “Ed and Em broke into the library again. Nothing to do with Amity.”

  
“Seriously?” Boscha wheezed. “How do you know? Did they say anything about her?”

  
“I heard them when I went to give those papers to principal bump,” Skara shrugged. “Not a word about that witch.”

  
“Ugh,” Boscha finally released Skara from her arm. “I’m getting my nails done after dinner, do you want to come? We can even get Peach Angel Energy drinks if you want.”  
Skara had no plans for after dinner.

  
“Uhh… I’m gonna pass,” Skara shrugged. “My baby brother’s trying to find a new school bag, I promised I’d go with him to the Maul after dinner.”

  
“Whatever, suit yourself,” Boscha scoffed, exiting Hexide without Skara.

  
Which was good. Skara searched through the after-school crowd desperately, trying to find a specific crop of wavy, mint-green hair. Her dark eyes scanned over the mass of students carefully, and it wasn't long before Amity Blight came into view. Skara skipped over, tapping the taller witch on the shoulder.

  
“Hey, Amity!”

  
“Oh,” Amity spoke almost flatly, with a bit of… amusement? Maybe confusion? In her voice. “Skara, it's you.”

  
“Yeah, it is,” Skara twirled her blonde hair around her finger nervously, the tension not thick enough to cut, but definitely able to be spread like butter. “Uhm… I wanted to say that I'm sorry. Really. For not really being there for you when we were kinda close, and then for bullying your friends, and kinda… treating you like a baby the other day. You didn't deserve any of that and I know now that what I was doing was really bad. I'm not saying we have to be gal pals or whatever, but… I hope you can forgive me.”

  
Amity seemed shocked for a moment, but that shock soon revealed a shaky smile. “I… Thank you for apologizing, Skara. And I do forgive you.”

  
Skara smiled. “I'm glad you can forgive me for all that.” Amity gave her a thumbs-up and stepped away, the air between them now feeling… lighter. Less tense. But of course, all that tension returned as Amity disappeared into the crowd, revealing a furious-looking Boscha, her face flushed to the brightest fuschia color. Her hands, balled into fists, shook angrily. She almost frightened Skara… almost. 

  
Skara then thought about her baby brother, and that book bag he really wanted. She smiled, and thought about asking him to head to the Maul with her later...


	13. Mercury Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intricate waltz of lovers and friends and enemies and secrets and family and all there is to be gained and lost, the midsummer Cold Front has come in full-swing with a boost of magic, a hint of autumn, and a loving atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HEAVILY recommend you listen to "Dans Macabre" by The Oh Hello's while reading this chapter (or really anything off their "Dear Wormwood..." album) and parts of chapter 15, I think it will REALLY add to the atmosphere.
> 
> A shorter, softer chapter before the story hits its peak! I really want to end this story with Amity being mentally stable, but still healing, so unfortunately, this story may be capped off after the next few chapters (unless I get some good advice from somebody and decide to extend this out a little bit). It feels bittersweet to say. I'm so glad so many of you have enjoyed this story, and I hope you enjoy the next chapters to come! And of course, I always have some tricks up my sleeve and some possible one-shots to add to the Halloween Night Poetry series :))

Late summer melts and freezes;  
Maple candy;  
Sweet and crisp;  
The early beginning of Autumn.

  
Maybe it's the turn of the season  
Coming far too early  
Or maybe it's just a front.

  
The clouds overhead open up  
And the wind casts a nervous chill.

  
But I hear no pattern of thunder!  
The only sound I hear  
Is the tapping of dancing shoes.

  
I smell no petrichor in the air!  
Just candied apples  
And chrysanthemum perfume.

  
I feel no boiling rain on my head!  
Just the warmth of your hand in mine  
And the fire you start in my heart.

  
*.*.*

  
The familiar chill of the mid-summer cold front blew through the air, raking dead leaves across the ground. Trees tilted and danced like ghosts with their spindly arms in the air, bowing beneath the strong wind. The sky was a mass of greying clouds that rolled calmly as the cold front brought a bitter twinge to the usually warm summer air. Celebratory energy charged the air around the isle, the gentle hum and thrum of magic now a steady, silent drumbeat, the beating heart of the isles picking up pace. The wind blew as its breath was taken away, air turning cold as it blushed an autumn leaf red. The Titan and its love, its muse, the rush of magic that brought a week of autumn months early. The two danced their long-awaited duet, a waltz so affectionately intricate that not even the Emperor could reign it in. The Cold Front’s waltz was one of two entwined, untamed forces that came with the anticipation of lovers long separated. The Reaper, The False King, The Fool in his Crown who called himself Emperor could only watch from afar and his heart would be too long gone for him to call the unfamiliar ache in the blinding, scorched, bleached pit of his soul “jealousy”. 

  
Amity walked as if firecrackers were being lit under her shoes, spinning and skipping with renewed joy. She giggled openly, pointed ears twitching, a rosy flush to her cheeks. Luz pranced with her at her side, shivering slightly with the sudden chill in the air.

  
“Brr, it's like, July, why is it so cold?” Luz sidled up to Amity, pausing the witch in her tracks.

  
“It's the midsummer cold front!” Amity beamed. “Autumn comes early for one magical week each year and oh my TITAN, it’s so amazing, Luz!” Amity’s hands gave half an excited flap before scooping up Luz’s. Luz smiled warmly, giving her girlfriend’s hands a soft, encouraging squeeze.

  
“It sounds like fun!” Luz said, before dropping one of Amity’s hands and continuing on their way home. “Kind of like Halloween,” Luz remarked sentimentally.

  
“Y’know, Human Halloween actually came from The Boiling Isles,” Amity said. “I don't get why you guys keep it to just one night, though. It's an autumn-long thing for us.”

  
“Maybe it just… didn't leak into the human world enough,” Luz speculated. “I didn't even get a full Boiling Isles Halloween last year, and that was still more fun than I've ever had on one Halloween Night in the human world!” Her tone was lighthearted, but Amity could hear the hint of sadness in her voice. She gently nudged Luz’s shoulder affectionately.

  
“Hey- later today, do you wanna head into the market? There’s usually a bunch of fun stuff to do there for the cold front, even if Eda’s business is a bit more private now,” Amity hadn't celebrated much in the market in… years, probably, but she thought it might cheer Luz up. After almost a full year of being in the Boiling isles, she knew the human girl was missing her mother. She could only imagine what it was like being in the human realm right now, with people probably searching for her...

  
“Oooohh, I’d love to!” Luz piped up. She opened her mouth to say something, and in that moment, they both realized they were home when…

  
“Hey! Kids!” Eda threw open the door, a wildly excited look in her metallic eyes. “You're not gonna believe what just happened!” Luz bounded towards her mentor, pulling Amity along with.

  
“I've seen a lot, but ooohhh, what is it?” Luz bounced on her heels. Amity watched quietly, intrigued (though somewhat nervous). Eda stepped away from the two, holding out her pale arms. She closed her eyes, brows furrowing in concentration. The two younger witches stared curiously, a pang of sorrow hitting them at once when they both saw Eda beginning to draw a circle in the air, until…

  
“Holy titan,” Amity just barely whispered as Amber light- genuine magic- sparked and flickered, the circle just barely taking form. It was quick to be snuffed out in the wind, but as Eda opened her eyes, Amity saw genuine childlike wonder in them. Eda seemed to genuinely be full of joy in that moment.

  
“And that,” she began, voice tense with emotion. “Is the magic of the Cold Front.” Luz gasped, letting go of Amity’s hand and rushing over to hug Eda.

  
“Oh my stars!” Luz chirped. “Eda, I'm so so so happy for you!”

  
“Eh, it's just a temporary thing,” Eda sounded close to weeping. “But it's good to have a little bit of it back.” Amity walked closer to the two, not going in for a hug but offering a quiet thumbs up. 

  
“Congrats, Eda,” Amity smiled. Eda looked at her slightly skeptically, but then shook her head as if dismissing a thought.

  
“Thanks, Amity,” Eda then pulled herself away from Luz. “Now, if the two of you don't mind, I have some discreet snake oil to ship off. Still gotta rake in those snails somehow…”

  
*.*.*

  
Training with Lilith wasn't all that bad, though that could have just been because of the anticipation of going to the market with Luz, and the flow of magic coming through with the cold front. The older witch was seemingly quite happy, her little words of praise actually making Amity feel good for once. Heck, Amity even bounced on her heels a bit after being complimented on a few more difficult spells. But, the practice did eventually come to an end, and now Amity found herself pacing around her room. She’d only been here for… a week and a half, at most? But it already felt familiar. Homey.

  
Amity, in the time that Ed & Em had been sneaking some of her old things back to her, had gained a pair of dancing shoes she once thought she lost. They were still as shiny as ever, and still pitch black with little gold. She wore her usual stockings and black tunic, but had at least convinced Emira to sneak her a black skirt, its fabric heavy and full and fit for dancing. Suddenly, right as Amity was busy swishing her skirt’s layers around in the mirror, there was a knock on her door.

  
“Come in!” Amity knew who the visitor was, obviously. Luz was in her usual after-school attire, and she had a wide, almost awed and admirable smile on her face.

  
“Aww, Amity, you look so pretty!” Amity immediately flushed a deep pink at that. “Well shoot, now I feel underdressed.”

  
“Don't worry about it,” Amity said a little too urgently. “You look… you always look really cute in that,” she cursed the crack in her voice, and retracted that curse just as quickly as Luz smiled and pulled her out into the hallway.

  
“You two kids stay safe!” Eda called out as the two girls began to leave. “Be back by sundown, you got that?”

  
*.*.*

  
The Marketplace beat with activity like the heart of the Isles, lovers and friends and families dancing their own magic waltzes, the wind carrying music and sweet smells and laughter. The marketplace was almost as warm and almost as Bright as the Owl House with its autumn colors against a grey sky. It was the first day of the Cold Front, some would say, that the spirit of the Titan would dance amongst witches like the Wild Era, its lover, The Magic, taking form and kicking off the week with The Titan. Young children would whisper tales of an antler-horned young man with warm, dark Amber brown skin and Raven curls and a friendly smile. He would be playing a fiddle for a mysterious young maiden whose pastel blue gown seemed to fade into the distant sky. Her face was seemingly covered with a wide brimmed hat from any angle, and she was said to be the most beautiful person anybody had ever seen, no matter what the description. A nostalgic ghost of centuries long dead. A silent film.

  
A warm mug of caramel apple blood sat in one of Amity’s hands, a much warmer, much more human hand occupying her other one. Amity sipped at the drink, the taste of cidery apple blood and burnt sugar left on her tongue. She would've never thought the two flavors would mix so well together-

  
“Can I kiss you?” It caught Amity so off-guard. It was just a whisper, but the young witch could've sworn that she actually went into cardiac arrest for a moment. She glanced at Luz, who was still slightly smiling, but who also looked anxious. Nervous. There was a slight rosy tinge to her cheeks, and the tiniest drop of chocolate on her lip from a snack they’d both shared earlier. Amity’s heart pounded in her chest, and she actually noticed how this didn't feel wrong. How she didn't feel like kissing Luz was something to be ashamed of. She didn't miss the thought at all, but its absence was noticeable.

  
The kiss was short, of course. Neither were exactly a fan of being publicly affectionate. But Luz’s lips were soft, and warm, and it made Amity smile giddily and rock on her heels slightly. She felt almost feverish from how much she was blushing, and suddenly she became very aware of her limbs and how she suddenly didn't know what to do with them. Luz’s smile was contagious and it filled Amity with a certain kind of warmth that made her really want to get to the more open areas of the marketplace so that they could finally dance together.

  
“I’m glad you're enjoying the festival,” Amity ventured to say something.

  
“Of course I am!” Luz beamed once more with a smile that melted Amity. “They have fun snacks, and the decorations are actually spooky because most of them are real, and they have music and fun and… and I get to see it all with you, Amity.” Amity’s heart felt full in her chest and she swore she could have burst in that moment. Instead, she dared yet another kiss, savoring this one and the slight chocolate taste on Luz’s lips. Down the pathway, Amity could hear the sound of a violin melody starting up, the sound drawing her towards the source of the music.

  
“C’mon, the dancing is one of the best parts.”


	14. A Trio Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dangerous trio of old foes and fiends occupies a stage as we kick off the climax of this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would definitely recommend listening to "Steady, Steady" by The Crane Wives once you get to Mrs Blight's part of the chapter, I think it'll really add to things.
> 
> I am?? So worried about the climax of this story?? I think you guys will like it, but this is also the furthest I've ever gotten into a writing project and I really hope it turns out well.

The dance is a triad;  
Three dancer’s hands tied into knots;  
They spin and flourish and whirl;  
It's nauseating to watch  
When you know they're coming towards you.

  
Sparks fly from their molten iron shoes  
Sparks fly from their hands  
Their voices.

  
Your eyes try to follow them  
But it's dizzying  
They spin too fast and whisper too loud  
The smoke clouds your eyes  
And your mind is on fire  
And you're sick to your stomach.

  
The dance is crowned by a Fool  
He’s called himself king,  
But where is his crown?  
And is his heart really his own?

  
It's flanked by a chess piece  
A Queen   
A dark, watching figure   
beyond the spring reeds.

  
It's tailed by a match;  
A lit match  
A flaming head  
Unable to see or to douse it's wildfire.

  
*.*.*

  
At one end of a complex dance, all its members blindfolded to their dance partners or the stage set for them or whose hand was clutching their’s, sat Boscha. She brewed angrily in her room, repeatedly opening and popping a dangerously molten gold spell circle. She flopped down on her bed with a groan, before taking a sip of the Angel Energy Drink. It was alright. It tasted like peach ring candies and the gross aftertaste in her mouth from when she had Wynnewood Orchid Fever (it was passed around all the upper class kids, and most of them thought it might have been a curse). She was quick to abandon it; the whirl of thoughts it brought up only added to the storm in her head. Drops of stifled rage only added to the young witch’s fire, rather than douse it. As Mercury thermometers dropped outside with the Cold Front, Mercury rose bitterly and hot like bile in the back of Boscha’s throat with sharp words and threats.

  
Amity Blight was the root of Boscha’s current problems, in her three eyes. Her leaving Boscha left some sort of mark on her other friends, giving them some sort of God-awful inspiration. None of them had consistently texted her in days, and Skara was just ghosting Boscha at this point. And then- and then she had the audacity to say that Boscha wasn't being a good friend, as if that braindead bitch knew anything about actual friendship. Boscha was giving her a future other than having an ice pick shoved through her skull at the conformitorium, Amity should be thanking Boscha and the ground her dragon leather boots walked on. 

  
Boscha whipped around to look at the mirror, nails piercing her palm. She felt something pull tight and snap within her chest, and she let out a choked, tearless sob. Scooting closer, she was nearly entranced by her own reflection and its magnified flaws. Maybe that's why things were going down hill; she was caught slipping.

  
Twisting her fingers around a tiny bunch of hairs and tearing, Boscha hissed at the pain, but smoothed back her hair with its now perfect hairline. She picked at tiny imperfections in her skin, little bumps and dots she might not notice otherwise. Swiping away the blood from the picked-at skin, Boscha sighed with her usual annoyance and an unusual air of defeat. She took another sip of energy drink and managed to spill some down her chin. Growling angrily, she wiped it off her shin with her sleeve, and the golden stain it left caught her eye. She thought back to the spell circle she’d create and then pop…  
And she was suddenly struck with an idea.

  
Where the young witch had stumbled through the dance, she now stepped confidently and swiftly. The set stage suddenly didn't matter to her; smoke and fire would mask any of her mistakes.

  
*.*.* 

  
The crown of this dance, Blindfolded but not blind, a fool in his coronation robes… sits patient like any regular day. He’s the center of this dance, the crown, but we will not be following him.

  
Pierre Weihe stalked along the edges of the marketplace, nondescript dove mask covering his face. Between the robes and thick boots and strict workout routine, he could hardly tell himself from other Emperor’s Coven guards. Had he just passed by a mirror, or had that been another guard visible through the cracks in the Cold Front Celebratory crowd?

  
Pierre shook his head; he was here on the hunt. His wild, icy blue eyes were supposed to be on the lookout for a sickeningly twisted, pale figure draped in red, not his own handsome reflection. He sneered behind his mask, blonde mustache scratching at the interfaced fabric; The Owl Lady was their main target, the orders coming straight from Emperor Belos himself (rather than a multitude of local authorities). Other targets included; a human teenager with wavy, brown hair and mysterious talent with magic. Pierre nearly had to scoff; the teenager thing had to be some sort of mask or vessel. No child that powerless could ever escape the Great Emperor, the King Divine. You see; a sect of the Emperor’s Coven- dubbing themselves The Cloaked Doves- had found themselves infatuated with the running theory that the Titan had risen again as the Emperor. That the Witch was born to a pair of doves and had ascended the confines of mortal perception and species and body; his divine form must be masked and cloaked, or else, who knows what would happen if a meager mortal laid eyes upon him? Just being in the room with him exerted such a strong sense of unease and awe. The walls would warp and bend around him, his silhouette the event horizon of a black hole. You couldn't look directly at him without your skin crawling, and just being in his god’s presence had nearly made the man weep.

  
Oh, and of course; Lilith Clawthorne. Pierre grunts as he remembers her; sleek, Raven hair, diamond eyes, and a temper unbefitting of a woman such as herself. Pierre remembers making a few light suggestions to her at a work party… and promptly feeling all of his sunny hair fall off his head. A simple, immature spell, but Pierre got the message. He wasn't necessarily surprised at her revolt, so much as he was disappointed. Just a few years time, he reasoned, and she’d warm up to him.

  
But god, his station was dull. On the outside of the Marketplace? Where the authorities were, as always, staunchly mocked and unwelcome by the residents? While it was in full Cold-Front swing? Pierre wanted to be in the midst of it, turning heads and revolting guests while they were helpless to do anything about it, because as stupid and those crooks may be, none of them could truly be stupid enough to attack a member of the Emperor’s Coven.

  
A dance started up somewhere- Pierre could hear the cheers and the music, the unique way the instruments carried over the shouts of the marketplace. A Violin, some other stringed instrument, and maybe a drum? Had all started up a uniquely macabre, but still upbeat, tune. Uncomfortably heavy spear in hand, Pierre finally left his station to enter the marketplace. He reasoned that he’d have better luck there, anyways, and that if he didn't… well, where’s the crime in a little indulgence?

  
*.*.*

  
At the other end of the dance, frantic and swinging with the Crown, molten shoes burning her feet and forcing her to keep going, lungs choking on the smoke, was Iridia Blight. She faced the mirror, a clock ticking somewhere behind her like a music box. Dead, winter grass covered in ice hung around a different clock, a watch’s face, one that glared unfeelingly and skeptically. A watchful pair of eyes that seemed too large, too separate from their head stared unblinkingly ahead into the glass of a mirror. The void of layers of royally dark fabric covered a woman who truly feels like a child swimming in the fabric of her mother’s clothes, like she had all those years ago, the same emerald wedding necklace clasped tight around the nape of her neck. The bracelets from that day were long gone; they were decorative, symbolic. The choker necklace was eternal, a Blight family symbol of status. It showed who your new, real family was, amongst the pastel silver wedding doves in your old family’s dark grey cloak. 

  
Iridia Blight was not immature, or childish. She never was and she never would be. She would never taint her body with transformation spells or even think to touch wild magic and it's dead cultures. They were just that; dead, decomposed. The dirt beneath her silver-filigree dancing shoes.

  
“Mr. Blight,” She smiled, hearing her younger self’s voice repeat those same words, all those years ago. “Why don't we go dancing this year? Ed and Em are still running off to their friends’ houses, and Amity-”

  
“I told you to not say her name in this house,” her husband’s voice was gruff. “She’s no longer a Blight- you made that choice just as well.”

  
“I understand,” Iridia’s voice stretched thin. “We can leave the staff to tend the house. It's been years, and we could go anywhere. Let's go dancing for the cold front.”

  
“I’d rather dance with the Spider Maid,” there was that mention of the eight-eyed platinum blonde again that felt like somebody ripping something out of Iridia’s head. 

  
“But Mr. Blight-” he gave her a look that she couldn't refuse. Iridia Blight bowed her head, and turned back to the mirror. She shook away all thoughts of her wedding day; she was not that foolish young girl anymore. She never would be. Iridia Blight was new to the world, without childhood, and she certainly would rather burn that young lady alive than see who she’d end up becoming.

  
Iridia ran her fingers through her own hair, and deep envy coursed through her like a knife to her gut. What were once minty, bright spring reeds were now dead and covered in permafrost. What were once drops of honey on a child's face were now pools of molten gold, hot and dangerous and lethal. One name pounded in her head like a separate heartbeat, and it took all of Iridia’s energy to keep herself from shattering the mirror before her. The name ran through her veins like poison, and she found laughter bubbling up to her teeth like foam. 

  
She would go dancing until her shoes wore through to her socks, and she would then keep dancing until her footprints were wet and red, as if she were a petulant cat who’d stepped in her owner’s paint. She would drink apple blood until it dripped down her chin and the front of her dress, until it stained her dress’s hem and scraped eerie stains on the dance hall floor. She would dance with a million men that night, and if she ever once saw a glimpse of the owner of the name that made her breath hitch with what could have been guilt (in any other world), she would burn it to ash that she would then use to pen her application letter to the Emperor’s Coven, because Titan knows neither of her children were getting in.

  
The first few steps of the triad’s dance began to play out, as all three dancers made their way to the festivities.


	15. I Think I'm Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of dancing; some sweet fluff as I work on the story's climax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mental health has, once again, taken a huge dip. Not to mention I'm now lacking in free time as I've now returned to IRL school.
> 
> The climax and end of this story is going to take me a little bit more time than expected, and I really hope this can tide you guys over until then.

It's daylight;  
The sun is coming up.

  
A day without the stormy weather.

  
I think I'm better.

  
*.*.*

  
It was just as exciting as their first time dancing together, all those months ago at Grom. Amity set a hand gently on Luz’s shoulder under part of her hood, her other hand clasping it's fingers with the other girl’s. Luz’s opposite hand sat on Amity’s waist, a fact that was adding to the fast staccato of Amity’s heartbeat. Her stomach fluttered almost dizzyingly, though Amity knew for certain that she wasn't sick. A gentle flush rose to her cheeks despite the chilly air. They stepped in time with the upbeat music, a bounce in the two’s gait. They occasionally spun in place, or one would twirl the other out, usually with a small flurry of giggles. As the music began to pick up pace, so did they.

  
“This is so much fun!” Luz giggled. “How come we never did this sooner?”

  
“Neither of us thought of it until now,” Amity replied with a warm smile. The song began to slow down, coming to its end slowly with the shudder of a violin. Amity took this chance to extend an arm around Luz’s neck, gently laying her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. Luz’s hand moved to Amity’s back, guiding her close. Amity almost felt surprised by the sound of Luz’s heartbeat; it was slightly quieter than that of a witch’s. Interesting.

  
“You look really happy,” Luz remarked. Amity simply nodded, and for once in a long time, she could really believe those words. Her smile didn't feel forced, and she didn't feel like she was either just barely on the cusp of crying, or hollow and drowned like she’d just finished crying. Her footsteps were lighter, and the sight of her own hair brushing into her eyes as she nuzzled into Luz didn't startle her. She breathed a bit easier, and she found a laugh gently shaking her shoulders.

  
“You do too,” Amity said sentimentally, noticing her lack of flustered stutter. Hm, she could almost miss that.

  
Almost.

  
Luz kissed the top of Amity’s head as a response, rather than saying anything. Amity flushed a dark red, squeaking as she turned to hide her face in the crook of Luz’s neck.

  
“A-amity! That tickles!” Luz giggled. Amity gently squeezed Her hand, silently trying to display the affections she was having trouble putting into words. Luz squeezed back, just as understanding.


	16. Somebody Will Do Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much can happen in the span of an evening, can't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for child abuse, implied assault, sexual harassment, very drunk characters, a character getting set on fire
> 
> Whew, this one was. Interesting to write. Also, yes the chapter title is a reference to my favorite musical because I literally couldn't think of anything else, what are you gonna do about it?

I’ve made such a mistake-  
You cannot forgive me.

  
I will not forgive myself,  
Because I did no wrong.  
I am a dove on the wing of a god,  
I can fly,  
And I can do no wrong.

  
I will not forgive myself,  
Because I am broken  
And I cannot break anything  
And I will not look at your hairline fractures.

  
I will not forgive myself  
Because I know I should've done better.  
I will take our last moment together  
To do something  
That I should have done in our first moment together.

  
I’ve made such a mistake  
That you should not forgive me.

  
*.*.*

  
Boscha’s shoulders were pulled back, chin up, posture conditioned into perfection. She snapped her finger to the beat of the music playing in the Marketplace, occasionally shuffling her steps as she walked… alone. Completely alone. No friends, no wannabes, not even losers who wanted to act all high-and-mighty when they were just as bad as Boscha. 

  
Now that was the part that really bugged her. She should have been there with adoring friends and followers, laughing. She should have watched the Amber lanterns light themselves up against the velvet navy sky, drunk on laughter and ego. She should have sent some poor witch home crying… and yeah, she’d done that. Alone. She’d been bumped into by some illusion track kindergartener and ripped her to shreds. Alone. It hit different, for lack of better words. She watched her walk away, and the silence that enveloped her almost surprised her. She expected snickers, praise, anything; Anything to give her the familiar flare of adrenaline and the sense of almost relaxation after an energetic flash of her temper. Instead, it was like somebody had stuffed velvet in her ears, deafening her. It just set her off in a way; like her entire world had just been ever so slightly tilted to the left. It made her want to punch something.

  
When she saw any other Hexide students, Boscha fully expected them to at least whisper to each other; Titan, any sort of attention, even if it was bad. She craved it like a drug. She’d take ego-destroying gossip over the fact that literally everybody was ignoring her. Hell, Skara could punch her teeth in and she’d probably deserve it.

  
Sipping from a tin of cinnamon root beer, the taste of the soda sweet and slightly spiced, Boscha glanced around. The edges of the sky were tinged a bright Peach with the slowly setting sun, and the breeze was beginning to slowly pick up. A small plume of smoke from a small fire pit floated up into the air, and Boscha was suddenly hit with the strong smell of roasted nuts and roasted harsh-mallows.

  
And she might have “borrowed” a small bag of said roasted nuts.

  
“Boscha?” Oh, speak of the devil. Boscha rolled her eyes as she turned to face Skara, her glare just as icy as the blue of her eyes. “I thought you weren't coming.”

  
“And I thought you wanted nothing to do with me,” Boscha’s anger simmered like hot water, just barely bubbling beneath the surface.

  
“I… I just wanted a break,” Skara sighed. “I promise I was going to invite you so we could talk, but you blocked my scroll number.” Boscha scoffed at that.

  
“I don't know, Skara,” Boscha looked her old friend up and down, sneering. Skara seemed… Skara seemed fine. Boscha wasn't used to raking her eyes over her friend to look for flaws to tear at. “I think you palling around with Amity did all the talking… and so did the fraying seams on your school uniform, can you really not fix those?”

  
“Can you really not fix your relationship to any of your friends?” If Boscha’s anger was a simmering pot of slowly boiling water, then Skara’s remark was a hand suddenly coming in to shut the heat off completely. Boscha completely took back her thoughts from before; she didn't deserve this, she didn't want this. The air was sucked from her body, leaving her feeling hurt and hollow. She’d had her metaphorical whip ripped from her hands as her pedestal came crumbling down to dust. Her mind was just a repetitive mantra of ‘please, Skara, no-’

  
Skara had already turned around to leave by the time Boscha had even opened her mouth to speak. And if there was one thing Boscha wasn't going to do, it was take responsibility for her actions, because almost immediately she began to think of a certain head of mint green hair. Her hand twisted, opening and popping a dangerously ember-colored spell circle. Words rose and twisted and tangled in her throat as angry tears rose to her eyes, and suddenly she tasted blood as she realized she was angrily chewing at her lips.

  
And as Boscha turned around and stomped off, she tasted blood in the water once more as she slipped through an alley and came out to see a very particular group of dancers. She suddenly wished she were blind, seeing Amity so happy without her. She wished she had somebody to dance with, just to stick it to her one last time.

  
*.*.*

  
The music picked up its pace once again, and Amity lifted her head from Luz’s shoulder. The twin fiddle players pranced, sang, and played onstage in perfect harmony. The two girls smiled at each other warmly, taking the next few steps of a quick-paced dance. The setting sun cast a golden halo around Luz, reflecting off her tan skin and dark hair. Amity’s hair, shiny and wavy once more, reflected the golden light as she followed Luz’s steps, like a stream in the middle of spring. Green-blue and shining gold, the current weaving and distorting the light.

  
“I wish Eda could go into the market,” Luz sighed. “She’d love this.”

  
“Me too,” Amity then tripped. Squeaking as she lost her balance, Luz swooped in, hands on Amity’s back to hold her up, and wowowow Luz was… very close. Her breath gently ghosted across Amity’s lips, her dark eyes staring into Amity’s honey-colored ones. They paused, blushing and flushed frozen. Amity’s heart picked up pace with the music. She then realized that one of her hands was on Luz’s neck, and if they both leaned in just a little bit closer-

  
Oh

  
Luz already seemed to have the same idea. Amity’s lips were greeted by another pair, slightly warmer and more chapped than hers, but gentle and soft nonetheless. She awkwardly kisses back, painfully aware of the people around them. Once she was upright again, she could feel a strong blush on her face that only got worse as she saw Luz’s bright smile and her offer to dance again.

  
*.*.*

  
Oh now this- this was juicy, this was a masterpiece. Not only was Amity Blight, youngest socialite of the Blight family of social climbers, seemingly on a date with some common street rat, by the looks of it, she was on a date with another lady that struck no chance of impressing the Blight’s ridiculously high standards. In the Blight household, marriage and relationships were social step-ladders and business transactions. Hell, Pierre knew this, and his extent of interacting with the Blights was reduced to taking Iridia Blight to Grom (long before she was even a Blight, but already after that business transaction was made between families)… and then dropping her to lay the charm on her sister, Odalia. 

  
And Titan, that apple blood Pierre just drank had been much stronger than he expected. His eyesight occasionally spun and dipped with the dancing guests, and his brain felt like it had been turned to soup. He tried to keep his composure, grimly unaware of the fact that his spear kept bumping into things and that it had recently skewered some poor witch’s hat. He decided at some point that he may desparetely need to sit down somewhere as his world tipped a bit more violently this time, and-

  
Was that the same flowing ponytail of icy green hair that Pierre had charmed all those years ago? It was a little blurry, sure, but there was nobody else in the Boiling isles with that kind of hair naturally. And maybe Pierre’s mind skipped over the fact that it was completely implausible for Odalia to be here.

  
“Hey, ma’am-”

  
*.*.*

  
A few more dancers joined the crowd, and Amity was laughing far too much to notice the close quarters that had pushed her and Luz closer together. The two talked and joked with one another, happy and close and-

  
A couple bumped Amity’s shoulder accidentally, making her stumble forward. It was then that she noticed how close everybody was, how loud the music was, how much the loud chattering and laughter was picking at her nerves-

  
“Hey, can we sit down somewhere for a second?” Amity leaned in to whisper to Luz. Luz nodded, loosening her grip on Amity and gently guiding her to the benches at the edge of the square. Amity sat down, resting her elbows on her knees and her face in her palms. She took slow, measured breaths, occasionally tapping her foot or her fingers. She rocked in her seat uneasily, squeaking quietly. The stimming really did help to calm her down, to make her feel less overwhelmed. She turned, seeing a concerned expression on Luz’s face- though she was so thankful to see Luz giving her space. The human girl held up a thumbs up, silently asking if Amity was alright. Amity gave a simple nod in response.

  
*.*.*

  
...how does somebody describe Iridia Blight? At Hexide, at least, rumors flew like silver-winged doves. That the Blight family had literally bought her for half their fortune. That her hair was insured for over 10 thousand snails. That she wore real human silver. That she had a unicorn-skin pair of boots. That she had four kitsune-fur coats that glowed like the moon and sun and all the stars. She would never confirm nor deny these, anyways. And all of the horrible rumors were easily stamped out with some pretty rich girl tears and threats of hexes. And then that would spark more positive rumors; that so-and-so had seen her cry and that her tears were iridescent, that she descended from the Titan’s favorite species of Fae. 

  
Hexide Iridia was a cut throat young lady with golden eyes and shiny, green hair. And Iridia Blight was still that- at least, that's what she told herself. The witch sipped politely at her apple blood, ignoring the red stain it left upon her thin lips. She felt weary from dancing, and just weary in general; as soon as she left the house, she’d felt so tired, like some unseen force had taken a toll on her. Maybe it was the shoes. The brand new leather did pinch her feet- or maybe it was the rich, heavy fabric weighing her down. Risking a scandal, Iridia removed her outer cloak, the dress beneath it fitting her torso and arms smoothly. As if she was some lower class floozy trying to pass as some flirty socialite, free from the grasps of her uptight and “eye-bleedingly rich” family. Cloak trailing behind her, an unraveling Iridia failed to notice the fabric catching on the rocky path and unraveling itself.

  
“Hey, ma’am,” a deep, slightly slurred voice called out to Iridia. She turned, noticing a member of the Emperor’s Coven leaning on his spear. “Pardon me if I'm wrong, but would you happen to be… Odalia Blight?”

  
Iridia’s temper screamed in her ears. She never knew why her sister had to take her last name as well, she never knew why her sister had to take anything. Iridia’s beauty. The credit for the magic Iridia did for her because she loved her older sister and wanted the best for her, despite Odalia being a lying snake. If Iridia Blight was gossiped about for her riches and beauty, then Odalia was gossiped about for that and nearly a million other “wonderful” things. Her wavy hair that fell around her head and shoulders like a Jade-colored Halo, her eyes that were as gold as coins, her full figure and “magical talent”. Compared to Odalia, Iridia looked like somebody’s disappointing first time using a washing machine- shrinked and faded.

  
And then Iridia’s temper screamed again because of another thing that Odalia stole from her, and that the fucking *clawthornes* somehow both stole from them. Moira. Sweet, sweet, trickstery Moira, with small hands and a pretty face and quiet giggle. Of course, both Iridia and Odalia were already betrothed, but… it couldn't hurt to ask a pretty girl to Grom. And then have her get elected as Grom queen. And then have Iridia’s worst enemies take her place and steal her love. And then have Odalia steal Iridia’s date, because even if he sucked, he was still her’s, and only her’s, and she wasn't just betrothed to him because Odalia was much too picky- 

  
Iridia really has just slipped into being bitter about her marriage, hasn't she?

  
She remembered the last news she heard of Moira; of her being so stupid as to steal a wanted criminal’s identity. And she began to consider it for just a moment as she took this fine gentleman’s large, gloved hand.

  
“That would be me,” Iridia raised her voice just slightly. She was in the mood for some scandal and the apple blood had completely taken out her ability to consider consequences. “Odalia Blight- you must be Pierre! I remember you.”

  
“Good thing you remember you!” He guffawed. “Your last roll in the hay before you got betrothed to… ah, shit, what’s his face?”

  
“Unimportant… say, Mr. Pierre, how would you like to dance?”

  
*.*.*

  
Amity took to sitting out the next song; it didn't entertain her much, anyways. She leaned her head on Luz’s shoulder, listening to the song the other girl was humming and the drumbeat she tapped out on Amity’s knee.

  
“What song is that?”

  
“Oh! It's a human song,” Luz flushed slightly. “It's called ‘Eithth Wonder’, its by an artist who just goes by-” Luz raised her hands for dramatic effect “-Lemon Demon.”

  
“Why would somebody choose that as a stage name?” Amity scoffed. Luz poked her in the side, earning a surprised squeak. 

  
“Oh, shush, you big meanie,” Luz joked, before her tone turned suddenly sentimental. “I think you’d like them. A bit on the weird side, but-”

  
“Oh Titan, please don't say it-”

  
“I'm also a little on the weird side and you're still dating me, sooooo,” Luz tapped Amity on the tip of her nose. “You might have a fun time listening to them. That, or I can laugh at your reaction to them.”

  
“And yet, you call me the meanie,” Amity giggled.

  
*.*.*

  
Boscha’s eyes filled with angry tears, watching the two. She would never know why Amity had stuck so closely in her heart and why her leaving would rip such a hole in Boscha’s life. Boscha didn't know what to do- she wanted somebody to do something, to strike something, to-

  
“Excuse me, young lady,” an authoritative voice caught Boscha’s attention as a heavy, gloved hand reached out and turned her around. Before she could react, a poster of a wild-eyed, dark-haired, Feral human was shoved into her face. “This criminal was supposedly sighted at this festival, and the Emperor’s Coven is wanting to know if you’ve seen them. They are wanted for violence and high treason.”

  
*.*.*

  
As a much more metaphorical dance began to twist and spiral, a literal dance started up. Amity stood once more, offering a hand to Luz on the condition that they stick to the edge of the crowd. Luz gladly took it, smiling brightly.

  
“You feeling better?”

  
“Totally!” Amity twirled Luz outwards before pulling her back in again. The two stumbled through a fun and fact dance, hands intertwined, hearts in sync and smiles matching. Amity felt so light and happy, like if she really tried, she could lift off and fly in that exact moment. She would occasionally shake her hands- and in turn, her girlfriend’s hands- in excitement, or tap her feet on the ground. Luz would always encouragingly squeeze her hand, a little proud of her girlfriend for stimming in public when she knew it made her nervous.

  
Amity caught a glimpse of the stage, and two new performers were up. They sang a duet while the young man- clad in red and black, with dark hair, Not Deer’s Not-Antlers, and a sweet, deep voice- played a set of drums. A young lady with a songbird’s high voice sang at his side, her dark skin practically glowing in the golden light. She wore a wide-brimmed hat, the robin’s egg blue giving her a halo, and her pastel blue dress flowed so magically and elegantly. She played a guitar, and the other instrument players around them seemed enraptured with the two’s duet- Amity expected a love song, but the closer she listened, the more she learned. About how the lyrics told the story of becoming disillusioned with somebody; of seeing through the shiny coat they painted over their harmful behavior. About knowing who they were now, and more importantly, knowing who you are now.

  
It was one of the most beautiful songs Amity had ever heard.

  
Luz spun Amity out, and the feeling of the dance was so pleasantly dizzying. She felt like she could stay here forever, in this festival, and it would be so long before she grew tired of it. And Luz- Luz was so wonderful. She was respectful, and funny, and kind, and beautiful inside and out and Amity loved her because she was so strange-

  
“I love you,” the words didn't mean to slip out, but Amity couldn't take them back now. I mean- they’d been together for a few months. They knew more about each other than some of their family members. Luz paused for a moment that stretched out agonizingly long, a surprised look on her face. The surprised look soon melted into pure affection that made Amity smile in a shaky, unsure way that she wasn't used to but that made her feel so, so happy.

  
“I love you too.”

  
*.*.*

  
Iridia felt like she was back at high school again. And she was loving every bit of it. The gossip that flared as she led her gentleman guard friend through the crowd, how she danced so dangerously close to a man that wasn't her husband. Pierre was stronger, much drunker, and much more scandalous. And he was a member of the Emperor’s Coven and therefore a step above Mr. Blight.

  
“Odalia,” Pierre slurred. “You grew up to look so much like your sister.”

  
“How could I not?” Oh, why shouldn't Iridia tarnish her sister’s reputation, too? Just a little bit. As a treat. “She really was the better of us two- all the magic, I was just a sponge back then, really.”

  
“Yeah, a sponge,” Pierre let out a gruff laugh. “I did always think you could lose a bit a’ weight here and there-” Pierre then annoyingly smacked Iridia’s hip “-good thing you kept those hips intact, though, because boy are they making me sing, Dally.”

  
Iridia remembered Mr. Blight commenting on those same hips- the result of having three kids. His words weren't dripping in near as much drunken honey. Instead, they contained a cold sneer. 

  
“I could say the same about that uniform of your’s, Pierre,” Iridia attempted a purr, and when that didn't work, she stumbled the two of them over to a seat and sat in Pierre’s lap like a petulant cat interrupting it’s owner’s work. Pierre didn't seem to protest.

  
“Whew- you changed, Dally,” Pierre leaned against the back of the chair. “I remember, Grom Night, you kept talking a lot about some skank named- shit, what was it?-” it was Moira “-Maude, or something like that. How you oughta get back to her…” 

  
Iridia Blight threw Pierre’s mask off and kissed him as hard as she could, partially because she knew people were watching, partially because she wanted everybody to just shut up about Odalia’s poor life for one second. She didn't matter- Iridia had been through so much worse and what did she get in return? Nothing. She got Mr. Blight, a pair of changeling, trickster twins, and a daughter whose name was poison in Iridia’s veins. Odalia had one bad thing happen to her on Grom night. So what?

  
“God, you drink some hard shit,” Pierre slurred. “I didn't expect a little old lady like you to drink hard apple blood- stuff tastes like perfume.” Iridia did have a bit of an alcohol tolerance- she had to keep her status going throughout lavish parties somehow, even if it meant succumbing to peer pressure.

  
“Thank you,” she tried to wrap her words in the same velvet Odalia seemed to wrap her’s in. “Oh, you're so kind to me, Mr. Pierre.”

  
“Aw, how could I say no to somebody with a body sweeter than sugar?” Pierre then drunkenly burped in her face. “I tell you what- you gotta fortune up in that family a’ your’s. They’ll understand if you embellish a lil about your… obviously imbecile of a husband.”

  
“What are you suggesting, Pierre?” Iridia Blight’s eyes gleemed spitefully. 

  
“We run away from here. No emperor’s guard, no… no Mr. Blight, or whatever his name is. Just us in the country side.”

  
“You know just how to convince a lady,” Iridia stood up, pulling Pierre with her. She grinned widely and spitefully- she knew exactly what she was doing…

  
Until-

  
*.*.*

  
Boscha ripped away the poster from the guard, growling angrily as she opened and almost snapped that spell bubble one more time. But… instead of snapping it, her hand gave a dangerously large flourish, and neither her nor the guard even noticed the plume of flames she’d just summoned-

  
*.*.*

  
Iridia Blight had no mouth, but she must scream. She yelled and cried and hurled insult after insult after screaming plea for justice or for her Oleander Child, but they fell on Pierre’s ears and Pierre’s ears only. Amity didn't even seem to see or hear her; she just kept dancing, with a smile on her face that was so unfamiliar and foreign to Iridia that it made her sick.

  
Pierre tried holding her back, his front pressed to her back as his spear held her in place. Iridia Blight seemed to lose her hold on whatever straws of victory she’d last been grasping at, as well as just losing her hold on life in general. Instead of yelling some phrase or Insult, she broke away from Pierre… and just screamed. Doubled over, like a child throwing a tantrum, mouth open inhumanly wide, Iridia Blight screamed until tiny drops of blood formed on her lips. And then her final words of the night-

  
“GIVE ME BACK MY CHILD!”

  
*.*.*

  
Amity didn't hear or see her mother’s outburst. She was far too happy in that moment, and it was almost as if the Isle knew what was about to come. The Isle let her have this moment, it let her have this calm before the storm, and it let her forget about her abuser.

  
*.*.*

  
Pierre was about as deep as a kiddy pool, if the Isle was being honest. Instead of being concerned for this woman’s mental health, Pierre’s biggest concern was the embarrassment he felt at even thinking of running away with that. He groaned, and stepped in front of Iridia… before shrieking himself before he could address the concerned crowd, because a large, angry, white-hot plume of fire spell was heading directly towards his face.

  
*.*.*

  
Boscha fucked up.

  
She really, really fucked up.

  
And this Trio’s dance, the emperor at its crown, and Boscha and Iridia at its sides, came falling apart as quickly as it had began. And all the dancers could do was burn themselves to ash, and burn their set stage all to ash in that moment, because they were all forced to watch…

  
...as Pierre used his spear to block the fire spell.

  
And it seemed as though The Whole Isle watched in slow motion as it flew forward…

  
And all the Boiling Isles watched as Luz twirled Amity out at just the wrong moment.

  
And all the Burning Isles watched as Amity The Witch burst into flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHE'S NOT DEAD I PROMISE!! And she will be in shock and hurt but!! She will make peace with a lot of things before the story ends, and she will be okay and happy!! I promise :))


	17. There are many fires I cannot put out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's the shortest moment, just after a spell is cast, that it can be taken back.
> 
> However, most can never take it back fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was considering making this a part of the finale... but I decided against it. I think The Finale to Amity's story should stand on its own.
> 
> Definitely very short and written very quickly. But- the finale should be one of my longer chapters... and we'll see about a quick epilogue ;)

I can only heal a small wound.

  
I cannot put out the fire eating you whole.

  
And I cannot put out the fire that drives you to live.

  
But I can control my own blaze.

  
*.*.*

  
When a spell is first cast, there’s the shortest moment of time where it can be taken back- most witches never react quickly enough to take it back, though. And perhaps somebody or something was helping her that night, because it knew that Boscha finally realized what a mistake she made. But in taking back a spell, the effects would be taken back as well…

  
Where there had just been a bright, hot, horrifying pillar of flame… stood Amity. And where there had been Boscha’s sleeve on her right arm, there were now burn marks and charred fabric extending up to her shoulder. It burned with pain and charred skin, but Boscha knew that some part of her deserved it for casting the spell in the first place, and as much as Boscha wanted to take it back, the damage had been done. Amity stood horrified, her arms scorched, her hair partially burnt, and her clothes still intact, but with burns and singed edges. Boscha’s eyes landed on where Amity’s skin quite literally met with singed dancing shoes, a disgustingly red-black scar indistinguishable from them. And if that wasn't enough to make her sick… Amity didn't even scream. She let out a quiet, choked sort of sob as she stumbled downward to her knees.

  
Boscha knew that she couldn't be forgiven-

  
But she knew she could do something to help

  
As the guard spoke; “That… that can't be the human, can it?” 

  
“No!” Boscha immediately slid in front of his line of sight. “I- I saw her heading towards the north exit right after the fire started.” The guard seemed to glare for a moment (it was near impossible to tell), but he took off in the direction of the north exit nonetheless.

  
Now It was time to face the worst of it. Boscha shakily turned around, catching Luz’s gaze. Luz… Luz seemed genuinely angry. Boscha had never seen that expression cross the girl’s face before; she thought it was impossible. That she just lacked the brain cells to do it. Before she could have a meltdown about the evening, Boscha nodded her head to the guard trying to hold back Iridia, before gesturing her hand towards the south exit, The one closest to the woods. Thankfully, Luz seemed to understand, and tried her best to guide Amity towards the woods.

  
Boscha… almost felt like crying. She felt too small for her body, and like her lungs couldn't get enough air. Her eyes burned, and she turned away from the scene of the fire.

She considered texting Amity an apology.

She considered giving her a few days of space.

She considered shoving her head into a mirror.


	18. Amity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our sweet finale to a bitter story, a soft ending to a battle hard-fought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am genuinely so terrified for this chapter. I've never written a finale like this, and I've revised and reviewed it so many times. It's so strange to see this ended- I hope you all enjoyed it! I know I certainly did (and will probably edit this a fuckton once I'm back on my ADHD medication).

A day of sunny weather;

  
I know I'm so much better now.

  
I'm my own ruler of my own things;  
I know I can still play on the swings.

  
I’m not the ruler of everything;  
But neither were you.

  
The clock has stopped ticking;  
Time is endless;  
And I feel myself begin to grow  
Like a flower with the sun.

  
The owl feather down that caught me  
Now lets me fly.

  
Her eyes aren't watching;  
She’s so careful when I cry.

  
When I walk inside  
It's warm  
And I wonder  
What held me in the cold?

  
There’s magic in everything;  
In the way this house stays warm  
In the way I stayed alive  
In the sunlight in the window  
In the perfume of the potions brewing.

  
I know who you are now;  
And I know who I am now.  
Two separate mazes  
Two separate starts and finishes.

  
My flame is now a home;  
A hearth.

  
I Wail  
Not for you to see me  
But so I can see myself.

  
And I say all this  
As a testimate  
To my growth  
To my healing  
For everybody who loved me enough to let me heal.

  
A day of sunny weather;

  
We’re all so much better now.

  
*.*.*

  
Amity could not tell you a single thing about the way home to the Owl House. Nothing stuck; she couldn't seem to process anything, and the first thing she did finally process was the clumps of black-and-green charred, grassy hair in her hands. She clenched her fingers slowly around them, somehow mentally numb and not reacting as the pain in her body flared sharply. She couldn't look at herself. She couldn't bring herself to do it. She considered floating away from the whole scene.

  
Amity’s face burned as warm tears slid down it. The clumps of hair began to fall from her shaking hands and she cried out, trying to grasp at them but only succeeding in dropping more of them- these were all that was left of her, she couldn't drop them now, not ever, not now-

  
A larger pale hand scooped up the clumps of burnt hair and pressed them into Amity’s palm gently, a similar hand coming up under Amity’s to clasp it shut. Amity focused intently on the warmth of the hand, of the sharp claws that leaned so dangerously close to the burns on her arms, but that didn't move. She thought she could trust it. 

  
And then the pain in her feet finally decided to kick in.

  
And Amity finally screamed as she dropped to her knees.

  
There were people speaking- whispering, maybe? Her ears were ringing too much for her to decipher what was going on. She froze, staring ahead at the door, shaking and shocked and- were those hands on her shoulders? Were those people speaking to her?

  
“Amity? Amity, can you hear us?” Willow! Amity was definitely not going to question why Willow was there, but she was there! And- and there was a figure in the corner of her eye that was definitely Luz. And those pale hands were… probably Eda.

  
“Y…” Amity almost spoke, but the words died in her tongue. She just nodded her head, another couple tears slipping down her face as she felt dry, grass-like hair brushing her ears.

  
“That’s good,” Eda whispered, before gently letting go of Amity’s hands. “Hey? Kid? You're gonna be alright, trust us. I know you're really scared and- and so are we, but you're gonna be alright,” Eda’s voice was comforting, but slightly frantic. Tense, almost.

  
There was more whispering, before- “Hey, Amity,” Luz’s voice was the softest of them all, like Amity was wrapping herself in a fuzzy blanket. “Could you maybe sit down for a second? I'm gonna pick you up so you don't have to walk to the couch.” Amity gently lowered herself closer to the floor, stabilizing herself with her fists as she leaned down on her hip. Luz was then quick to scoop her up, but she was nearly close to dropping Amity when-

  
“Why can't I walk?” Amity sounded just a tiny bit dazed. far-off, almost. The room was dead silent, the air heavier than lead. It was like all the oxygen had been sucked from the group; Amity didn't think anybody even dared to breathe.

  
“You uhh… you twisted your ankle pretty bad on the run home,” Luz pressed her forehead to Amity’s. The Witch didn't know how much she believed that, but she wrapped her arms around Luz nonetheless and held onto her tightly. Face pressed into Luz’s shirt, eyes pressed shut, Amity could almost pretend that she was just back on the grudgby field with a broken ankle. The sun would be the source of the warmth instead of the uncomfortable burning on her skin, like she’d gotten some really bad sunburn. Sweat would be dripping down her forehead instead of what she was pretty sure was blood.

  
Amity was laid down gently on the couch, and she was grimly reminded of all that time ago when she first came to the Owl House, frightened and shaking and… and Amity found herself growing surprisingly angry. People couldn't just keep hurting her; she couldn't let them hurt her anymore. She was not Amity Blight, young socialite and school bully. She was not Amity The Witch, horrifically pale figure with green hair and no childhood and a fractured mind full of murky metaphors. 

  
Her name was Amity.

  
And nobody was allowed to hurt her anymore.

  
“Lilith!” Eda called out, snatching Amity from her thoughts. “Come downstairs, I need your help with an idea.”

  
“Why do I not have a great feeling about this,” Amity sarcastically remarked.

  
“Ah, the attitude’s back first,” Eda rolled her eyes. “Charming.”

  
“And promising!” Luz chimed in, earning a half-laugh, half-cough from Amity. She was… exhausted, and terrified, and angry, and still not entirely all-there yet, but she was a little better. 

  
“I can't possibly see why this idea is so urgent-” Lilith cut herself off, seeing Amity. Amity still couldn't understand why everybody was so shocked- yeah, she was burned pretty bad, but it wasn't like she was permanently disfigured, or anything. Right?

  
Right?

  
“...Cold front’s still around…” Amity could just barely make out the words the two sisters were whispering to each other. She glanced up at Luz, sighing. Luz’s uneasy expression left a guilty, sinking feeling in her gut that she couldn't get rid of.

  
“I'm sorry, Luz,” Amity pressed her eyes shut once again. “I really didn't mean for tonight to end this way.” She felt a gentle touch brush against her cheek, assumedly Luz’s hand.

  
“Oh, Don't apologize, Amity,” Luz cooed. “This wasn't your fault! King and I plan on setting Fiery revenge on whoever did this to you and- oh, don't cry, you're gonna make me and Willow cry!” Luz’s thumb swiped a stray tear away from Amity’s cheek as the young witch shook slightly with laughter.

  
“You… you are such a dork,” Amity squeaked. “Please never change.”

  
“Trust me, I don't think she ever plans on it,” Willow joked. Amity giggled, reaching up to platonically squeeze Willow’s hand. It surprised them both, but neither seemed to protest. 

  
“Death to the arsonists!” King cried out, jumping up to cuddle up to Amity’s side. “May they suffer the same fiery fate they tried to inflict on my buddy!”

  
“Wow, way to steal my girlfriend, King-”

  
“Okay,” Eda interjected, the mood suddenly heavier. “I think… I think Lily and I have an idea. The Cold Front is still around, and with Lily’s leftover magic, and the magic in the air or whatever… I think we can heal this.” Amity was silent, but she opened her eyes. She glanced down… and gagged in her seat, just barely able to stifle being sick as bile burned the back of her throat.

  
Her feet and shins were both covered in black and red scars. Blood was dripping down onto the couch and staining it an ugly red-brown, and she gagged again when she realized there were places where she couldn't tell the difference between charred shoe fabric and burn scars, between scraps of singed stockings and the skin of her legs. And that she could only feel pain, and that she couldn't move anything below her ankles, and that her legs felt surprisingly weak and almost… numb? Not numb of pain, but numb of any other sensation.

  
“That's exactly what we were hoping you wouldn't notice,” Lilith sighed.

  
“I'm gonna throw up,” Amity laid her spinning head back down. “Holy Titan- I'm genuinely going to throw up, I'm not kidding.”

  
“Can you hold it back possibly?” Eda wheezed. Amity nodded her head, stomach churning, the image stuck in her mind. She breathed in heavily, sucking in air through clenched teeth. Luz reached down to clasp her hand gently, and Willow offered words of encouragement that didn't entirely register in Amity’s head.

  
Lilith and Eda joined hands, shakily casting a spell circle together. They cast it slowly and precisely, the circle large and wide, barely breathing as they did so. It glowed a gentle mint green, light rippling out like sunlight through leaves. Eda and Lilith gently stepped away from it and waited with baited breath to see what would happen…

  
With a blindingly green shower of light, Amity seemed to be healed. The charred shoes dissolved to ash, and the burns beneath her knees seemed to be gone. The group looked between each other silently, almost expecting something bad to happen.

  
“Well that… certainly worked better than I thought it would,” Eda spoke slowly, as if making any noise would break some sort of protective bubble. Evidently, it didn't, and Amity seemed to be fine.

  
Almost fine, that is.

  
Tentatively, Amity turned to step off the couch, stepping shakily yet surely… and Immediately tumbled to the ground again. Her shins seemingly turned to jelly, completely giving out beneath her. Amity stared at the ground in shock- she didn't feel like crying, or like getting angry. She didn't know what to feel. And as Willow and Luz came to help her up, she began to see all of her other smaller burns, and she could only stare at herself in complete and utter shock. 

  
What had happened to her?

  
*.*.*

  
After a good couple of hours of falling, stumbling, and a lot of slow healing salves and bandages for her other injuries, Amity could balance herself as long as she didn't walk too fast (and by “too fast”, she meant anything slightly above walking speed). Willow had to go home at some point, and Eda and Lilith knew to give Amity a good bit of space.

  
Head on a pillow in Luz’s lap, in her still crowded room, Amity looked up at her girlfriend’s hands as they worked quickly with stretchy string and colorful, shiny beads. Amity liked the way they clicked together and the sounds the elastic string made when weaving through beads.

  
“What did you say those were called again?”

  
“Oh! They're called Kandi beads,” Luz showed off her current Kandi creation, a little string of sparkly yellow and shiny lilac beads. “You can make a bunch of stuff out of em- I like making bracelets, personally. I think they're neat.”

  
“Cool,” Amity mused. “I like the sounds they make.” 

  
“Me too!” Luz chirped. “...this one is actually for you, Amity.” Amity gently raised her wrist, letting Luz slip the bracelet over her small hand. She flapped her hand slightly, smiling.

  
“Thank you!” Amity gushed. “I- thank you so much, Luz. You've helped me change for the better and I… I really could not ask for a better girlfriend.”

  
Luz almost seemed… surprised for a moment. She paused, a shocked but delighted smile on her face. Her smile then widened into her signature goofy grin that melted Amity’s heart so much, and she excitedly tapped her hands on the floor.

  
“I couldn't ask for a better girlfriend either!” Luz brushed some of Amity’s hair out of her face. “You're so amazing to me, Amity. I think you're pretty rad!”

  
Amity giggled, and a surprisingly dismissible thought crossed her mind. She briefly remembered her parents, and all they had to say about Luz. About her dating Luz. That she couldn't possibly date another girl, at least not publicly, not now. That it was too adult or too scandalous or too close to the Wild Witch’s practices. Amity finds herself… dismissing the thought, as Simple as waving away a mosquito. Something so pure and so sweet couldn't possibly be wrong.

  
Amity accepted Luz and loving Luz so thoroughly into her life that it couldn't be wrong.

  
Amity decided then that her eyelids were a little heavy, and that Eda might give the two a pass because of the circumstances. Turning her head, she sighed and relaxed against the pillow before tossing an arm over Luz’s knee.

  
“Are you… cuddling my leg?”

  
“What about it?” Amity flushed slightly.

  
“Nothing,” Luz giggled, before tossing a blanket over Amity as her eyes fluttered shut for the night.

  
*.*.*

  
At some point in the night, Amity was awoken by the sound of her scroll’s notification sounds. Groaning, she sat up… and immediately sick and feverish all over again as she saw that the notifications were from Boscha. She saw the word ‘Sorry’ and slammed the scroll down, pressing her eyes shut as realizations fell into place.

  
There was no way she was reading that now. Maybe not ever.

  
*.*.*

  
Amity sat alone in her sleeping bag early the next morning, a light spell eminating a soft, cream-colored glow as she read through the Azura book she was currently on. Her eyes widened as she read through a particularly interesting part of the page, causing her to shift in her seat a bit.

  
‘Azura stood among the smoke and deer bones, regret seeping into her like the rain that had just begun to fall. The sun set on the day, the grey of the sky tinged like dirty water. Her Mentor, smiling woefully, set a hand on her shoulder. “You did all you could for her,” Her Mentor comforted Azura. “And I’m so proud of you… but let's go home for now.” Azura couldn't help but wonder what was her home now.’

  
Suddenly, there was a knock at Amity’s door. Amity pushed herself up to her knees, Legs still a little wobbly (but better off), and went to open the door. Of all the people she expected to see on the other side… Eda was probably the last person on that list.

  
“Good Morning Eda,” Amity rubbed her eyes. 

  
“Morning kid,” Eda gave Amity a nod before sipping at her mug of apple blood. “Just wanted to come up and see how you were doing. Luz mentioned you having some pretty iffy dreams, soooo…” she shrugged.

  
Eda’s words settled a little oddly with Amity. She… couldn't remember anything like this happening beforehand. She almost felt a little defensive, like she was in trouble for something she didn't know she did.

  
“I… I'm doing quite alright,” Amity didn't mean to sound so cagey, but she did nonetheless. Eda shrugged, seeming to sense Amity’s unease.

  
“Hey, you're not in any trouble, kid,” Eda almost… softened? Huh, that was new. “I'm just worried about you. You've been through a lot and I know that you're at least not doing great.”

  
“You're right,” Amity looked at the ground rather than Eda’s mismatched eyes. The words were hard to get out, but she knew that it was a step in the right direction. “I’ve been… not okay, for a really long time now- and… I know I'm doing better. But it just feels like I'm going to not be okay forever.” Eda sucked in a breath, before taking yet another sip.

  
“I understand how that feels- I was a traumatized teen once too, you know?” They both shared a laugh. “But- I'm now a traumatized adult whose been around the Isles and more a few times, and I know one thing for sure; you're not going to feel this way forever. One day, you're gonna sit down and realize that you're really, truly happy right now. And the stuff that happened to you won't bother you nearly as much as it does right now. Trust me, kiddo, it gets a whole lot better from here.”

  
Amity didn't know how else to respond, so she just- “thank you so much, Eda.” Eda smiled, awkwardly ruffling Amity’s hair.

  
“No problem, kiddo,” She pointed finger guns at Amity. “If you ever need to talk… I'm mostly likely here.” Amity chuckled at this, before yawning.

  
“...thanks,” she muttered. “I'm… probably gonna head back to bed for a bit.”

  
“Sounds like a plan,” Eda’s smile was comfortingly warm as Amity closed the door to her room. In her home.

  
“Wait!” Amity opened the door once more urgently, catching Eda’s attention.

  
“What is it?”

  
“...I love you, Eda,” Amity quietly said, almost sounding frightened to say the words out loud. Eda smiled warmly, if a bit awkwardly.

  
“I love you too, Kiddo.”

  
*.*.*

  
Of all the things that Amity expected to happen while she was healing from the festival disaster, walking downstairs to see the other Owl House inhabitants having a pleasant conversation with Edric and Emira was not one of those things. Emira was seated on the counter, listening intently as Edric told the group some story from his years of mischief at Hexide. Eda was seated at the kitchen’s beat up table, Lilith standing at her side and nodding along to the story… and Luz sitting with King in her lap, very enraptured with whatever tale Edric was spinning. Amity stood, mouth agape, confused at seeing the twins in the middle of their kitchen.

  
“Oh! Hey Mittens,” Edric waved his younger sister over. “Eda was just about to call you downstairs, come have a seat.”

  
“Ed and Em,” Amity squawked. “What are you two doing here?”

  
“We just wanted to stop in and see how our little Mittens was doing,” Emira hopped down from the counter. “We heard what happened at the festival and there was no way we weren't gonna come and check in.”

  
“When were you gonna tell us your siblings were such a hoot, Amity?” Eda joked, earning a tired groan from Amity.

  
“Ed, Em- I love you two… very much…” Amity glared up at the two. “It is way too early in the morning for this.” Edric and Emira shared a playful glance, chuckling.

  
“C’mon, Mittens,” Edric walked over, tossing an arm over Amity’s shoulders. “Can't we come and see how our little sister is doing?”

  
Objectively, they both could. The rest of the group exchanged a short conversation as the three siblings agreed (Amity slightly begrudgingly) to be the ones to make breakfast. Eda and Lilith left for the living room, Luz leaving with them (but not before giving Amity a kiss to the cheek). As they began on some pancakes, Edric snorted as he held back a laugh. Amity sighed, glancing at him.

  
“Spit it out, Ed.”

  
“Nothing, you two are just cute!” He laughed. Amity flushed a half-angry, half-embarrassed tomato red. Amity then looked between the two, noticing how everything was ever so slightly… off. Tense. And As much as she’d like to goof around a bit with the twins...

  
“Where have you two been?” That was enough to get them both to freeze up. They shared a glance, eyes wide and faces pale.

  
“Whaddya mean, Mittens?” Emira tried to sound casual, but she definitely wasn't the liar of the pair. 

  
“You've been gone from school for a few days, nobody’s heard from you, and you were completely gone from the Festival,” Amity snapped. “That's not like you! That's not like either of you! What's going on?”

  
“I… I guess we do owe you the truth, Mittens,” Edric sighed. Emira protested, only for Edric to give her a serious look that silenced her. “After… After our collective meltdowns after Mother and Father kicked you out, We both kind of decided to stay with some friends for a while. We definitely planned on coming back after Mother and Father chilled out, but uhhh…”

  
“After all three of us left, Mother apparently kind of… had a breakdown? Neither of us really felt safe going back, still don't,” Emira chimed in, voice nervous and uneven. “Apparently, she’s been shut inside Blight Manor to ‘heal’ and ‘avoid a public scandal’.” The three siblings all laughed grimly amongst each other.

  
“... I'm glad you guys are safe,” Amity smiled nervously. Edric nudged her side gently, smiling back.

  
“We’re glad you're safe, too.”

  
*.*.*

  
It had been a week since the Cold Front Festival disaster, and Eda had finally corralled Amity into the bathroom to deal with her burnt hair. Hexide usually closed for the holiday, and Eda knew that Amity still needed time to bounce back from everything, so she’d waited a week to deal with it. Eda almost saw herself in Amity, in those same yellow eyes; a young child hurt severely by some immature curse. Though Of course… Amity was healing. Eda most likely couldn't.

  
Amity sat down on a chair yoinked from the kitchen, staring into the mirror as Eda combed gently through the knots in her hair. Amity cringed at the sound of Eda’s comb scraping through burnt-black hair, like somebody raking through dead leaves. She thought she could still faintly smell smoke on it.

  
“I know kid, this isn't any better for me,” Eda muttered. Amity bit her tongue so she didn't bring up her own mother and that pile of issues regarding her hair. That was… a spiral entirely all on its own. She briefly remembered the way her mother’s bony hand held her chin firm as she’d brush her hair, forcing amity to look and pose like some doll. Amity stifles a gag as she remembers the burning scent and the pain on her scalp from the hair bleach.

  
For so long, Amity had worn her mint-colored hair with pride. She had been a Blight; young and green and powerful. She wore that color for years like an emerald tiara and buried deep the yearning for her old brunette waves of hair. Yearning was unbecoming for a successful Blight, somebody who never had to go without anything they wanted. Nervously clutching her hands tightly together, Amity wondered if she was missing more than just her brown hair. If she was missing what it meant for her, too. Her childhood innocence. Her friends. Her memories. As Eda’s hands combed through the spring reeds of Amity’s hair, Amity stared in the mirror and was faced with… a child. A soft expressioned, green-haired, honey-eyed child. And she came to a realization that completely flipped her upside down and shook her like a bag of coins, making her nauseous and nearly making her gasp. She had never been without childhood, but she had been robbed of her complete innocence and youth for years by cold, uncaring hands. And she was still a child. She could still grow and learn and take back those years of innocence… and it didn't feel like enough time. It didn't feel like enough time and it set her so off, like a weight had been lifted but something was still holding her so far back. Amity nearly teared up again. How do you make up for fourteen years of lost time?

  
You do it with love, Amity reasoned. She glanced in the mirror again, taking a good look at herself. Maybe she didn't love herself just yet- she still had a long way to go. But she loved Luz. She loved Eda. She loved the twins and Willow and king and she loved The Owl House. And she knew that they would help her no matter how much she stumbled towards loving herself and towards healing. And she knew that she was deserving of the love they gave her all the same.

  
A small voice in the back of her head hissed that she doesn't deserve it, and Amity is surprised at how easily she can just… shake that thought away. Like it was nothing more than a thought. She smiled; she’s stronger than she once thought she was, all that time ago, crumbling to pieces in The Blight’s driveway. In Luz’s arms. And she smiled even more when she saw Eda’s lips just barely flicked into a soft grin...

  
And then Eda tried to pull out a pair of scissors in the least-threatening way she could manage.

  
Amity immediately tensed up, expression falling fast in fear. Eda set a hand on Amity’s shoulder, only for the much younger which go flinch fearfully. Eda took a step back, holding her hands up in surrender.

  
“Hey- hey- it's gonna be alright, Kid, just… calm down,” Amity settled slightly, though she still eyed the scissors carefully. “I just need to cut off some of the burnt parts of your hair, is that alright?”

  
Amity nodded, sitting tensely as Eda chopped away at her burnt hair. On one hand- she was happy to see it go, and to see the pastel green go along with it. On the other hand… that was still her hair, that was still a part of her that she was losing because of somebody else. It brushed uncomfortably against her neck and shoulders like itchy dead grass, and it fell limply to the floor like wire, and…

  
...and Amity began to consider that it might not be her’s anymore. That she needed to let go of it. It made the process slightly easier, and made her relax a little bit. And if she was being honest… she didn't look all that bad with shorter hair. And maybe she smiled a little bit as she saw how much her brown roots were growing in.

  
“See?” Eda stepped back to finally reveal her work. “I think I did pretty great.” Amity’s hair had been brushed to a sort of side-part, definitely a little too short now to tie into a ponytail. A lot of it was burnt or cut off, and she could feel it gently brush around her ears…. and she loved it. She smiled, turning in the mirror of her own accord, not forced by some mother’s skeletal hand. This was her- this was Amity. And she couldn't have liked it more at that moment.

  
When Eda brought her out to show the other’s, Amity’s chest felt fit to burst with joy. She stimmed happily, feeling her siblings- visiting once again- pull her over to the couch.

  
“You look amazing, Mittens!” Emira took her chance to be the first to ruffle Amity’s new haircut. Amity squeaked in surprise, leaning away from Emira and conveniently leaning on Luz.

  
“We both have short hair now!” The human cheered, cupping Amity’s face gently. “Oh my stars, you look so pretty!”

  
“I- thank you so much,” Amity felt lighter than air in that moment, like she could do anything. She looked around herself at her new family, at her new home…

  
She could stay here.

  
She had a family that she knew wouldn't hurt her.

  
“I’d say I did a pretty good job, dontcha think, Lily?” Eda turned to her sister.

  
“I think so,” Lilith smiled thinly at Amity, and Amity could begrudgingly accept that yeah, Lilith was a part of that family too.

  
“Thank you,” Amity said, nearly tearing up with joy. Squished between Emira and Luz, her family members around her, Amity saw her new life surrounding her. And she couldn't have loved it more.

  
Amity could accept this life with open arms and dance with it like an excited child dancing with their best friend in a spring meadow. She had a long way to go, but for now, she was happy, And she knew she would be happy here for a very long time. The group talked and laughed together, the laughter spreading warmly and magically, carrying the Tale of Amity on its Lilting song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everybody who kept reading this and gave me love and criticism throughout this adventure- you mean so much to me. I'd definitely say this story is one to reread to catch smaller details and callbacks, but... that's really up to you all. I hope you all have enjoyed this story and I hope this ending is one you enjoyed!


End file.
